


The Element of Surprise

by Justina_Lias



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Crimes & Criminals, F/M, How many tags do I need?, M/M, Murder/Serial Killer, Poor attempts at humor, Slow Build, and I just want everyone to fuk, because I have zero patience, but like not THAT slow, but then again real gd slow bc, smut demons come over for coffee on the reg tho, the plot lords have frowned upon me
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-02
Updated: 2016-09-23
Packaged: 2018-03-04 20:30:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 22,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3088076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Justina_Lias/pseuds/Justina_Lias
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hi my name is Eren and I'm the main character of a horror story. </p><p> <br/>(smut scheduled for Chapter 5 hehehehehehehaaaghhaaghkackk)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Dr. Sun

**Author's Note:**

> *Pulls on latex gloves and grins conspiratorially * Well fandom, I’ve decided to see what havoc I can wreak on AO3!
> 
> There are already so many Ereri fanfictions on here that are fucking _amazing_ \- I've included a list of my personal favorites in the end notes, FOR THE LOVE OF GOD go check them out!! - and I want more, so I’m creating more!
> 
> This is not only my first fanfic, but my first work of fiction period. I’ve never really considered myself organized or creative enough to build a story of any length, but I’m willing to try anything for Levi & Eren... I won 1st place in UIL creative writing when I was like 8, so don't worry you're in _extremely_ capable hands...
> 
> ... ;)
> 
> I’m also unfamiliar with AO3 etiquette, but you guys seem largely supportive and constructive-criticism-oriented, so if there is something I need to tag or triggers I need to point out or just anything I have forgotten to do, please let me know! If it’s a stupid mistake feel free to address me in all caps :P
> 
> I would also like to make it clear that Eren as an artist/singer is not my original idea. I’ve seen it done in several fics and I’m such a fucking sucker for it that I cannot resist. I just don’t have the power. Forgive me. *ugly cries*

### Holy Mother of Pearl! I'm so nervous. This feels like a first date! Ok ok. Here goes nothing!

(Song for this chapter is Dr. Sun – Ace of Base!)  


_Armin's POV_

An exaggerated groan came from the backseat – again.

This time Eren didn't even bother turning around. “Drive or shut the fuck up, Jean! I can’t help it if some asshat slams on their brakes.”

Jean, dependably melodramatic, cast a mournful glance back at the trailer we had in tow. 

“Oh no, it’s fine," he assured, “I _truly_ cannot wait to spend the next few weeks supergluing all my shit back together. I want to make sure everything is good and broken by the time we get there though, so you should stay where you are.” 

Mikasa mumbled something that sounded like “ugly coffee table anyway" and earned a triumphant chuckle from Eren. 

“I think I’m doing you a favor, Jean-Bon.”

Jean huffed and stole a betrayed look at the pile of blankets beside him.

“This could be an excuse for you to redecorate,” Eren continued, “just give 1970 its furniture back and we’ll pretend that orange recliner never happened." Then he frowned. "Poor Mikasa... having to sleep with a horse and a grandma quilt.” 

"Eat shit, Eren! Anyone that sleeps with you deserves a god damn _tax exemption_."

I listened to Eren and Jean bicker in silent amusement, not bothering to point out to Eren that he seemed to hit the brakes a little harder and more often than necessary, nor to remind Jean that the newspapers and old towels he had bitched about packing everything with would ensure his “shit” arrived intact – Eren’s driving notwithstanding. Anything was better than whatever the radio stations in this area were calling music anyway. I regretted tossing my CDs in the back. 

Moments later, Eren, as if on cue, started nodding his head and tapping a beat on the steering wheel – effectively silencing Jean, who had been loudly wondering if Eren had to jerk off with tweezers. I sighed in appreciation. Eren’s voice warrants some sort of poetic glorification that I’m woefully too inept to make. Even Jean will shut up to hear him sing... maybe that says enough.

He alternated between humming and whispering the first part of the song, so low that I couldn’t make out what it was. I smiled at my best friend and stared in anticipation as he began to unwind before me. 

I once told Eren that he was captivating. I wasn’t the only one to notice - he earned a lot of admirers over the years – but it never made him any less humble. And I don’t mean Eren sat around pretentiously rejecting compliments and insisting he was nothing special. Eren just expected a lot out of himself. He sought always to be and do his best, in spite of all the reasons he had been given not to, because he cared about how he affected those around him. He had experienced firsthand the devastation a single person was capable of and refused to perpetuate it. Even after all he had been through, Eren still had hope, and faith, and vigor. He was strong, and I admired him so much for it. 

_I don't want to be alone on the beach, no  
Give me Dr. Sun, he's my man _

_I don't want to be alone on the beach, no  
Angel of the night, give him to me_

_I believe in to let a little sunshine in my life  
I believe in him and me_

_My vacation is gonna be a pleasant memory  
I will have him everyday_

My smile widened at the estival lyrics. This wasn’t a vacation, but the song was a symptom of his joy – our joy. We were headed to Trost to embark on the next chapter of our lives and the violent excitement we all felt as a result was almost tangible. Eren was now singing with fervor.

_I don’t want to be alone on the beach, no!  
Give me Dr. Sun - he’s my man_

_I don’t want to be alone on the beach, no!  
Angel of the night, give him to me_

Then Jean joined in and I was pretty sure my smile was going to continue up past the corners of my eyes, off my face, and out of the car to the sky. Bliss had to be radiating off of me in thick, heavy waves. Nothing could be more _right_ than this moment of us together.

_I can never live without him, I caaan’t stand it!  
I can never live without it, I caaan’t stand it!_

They started to serenade me, each gripping one of my shoulders as their voices became more theatrical. Eren’s brows were drawn together in feigned passion.

_I CAN NEVER LIVE WITHOUT AR-MIN, I CAAAN’T STAND IT!  
I CAN NEVER BE WITHOUT HIM, I CAAANT STAND IT!_

I shook with laughter. Eren had long ago turned my psychological “shell” to powder. He burst into my life and wreaked havoc on whatever insecurities might have been there before. His love took no prisoners. It was a source of strength – not consuming so much as complementing – that was just too blameless not to welcome. You don’t experience a love like his and then successfully convince yourself you’re not worth it. Eren helped me love myself. He helped me see that I had no reason to be ashamed of who I am, especially around him, so I abandoned my sentimental reverie to finish the song with them and supply the moaning parts as needed. 

We were able to keep ourselves entertained for a while with innocent samples of our favorite artists, but the lack of accompanying music had us in pursuit of increasingly more vocal pieces that we could be obnoxious with. Eventually, after a mega flamboyant Mariah Carey tribute had digressed to an amateur vocal range competition, Mikasa woke up to shove a foot in my face and pinch Jean’s ear in protest. I quit singing before I ended up on the receiving end of her wrath as well. Jean flinched away, laughing, then gave her a sheepish grin. (Sheepish Jean, how sweet.) 

“Alright monster, I’m done,” he soothed, “I’m done.” He grabbed her hand and pulled it to his lips for a chaste kiss. Yawning, Mikasa collapsed back onto the mountain of pillows she had piled up against the door and stretched her legs across Jean’s lap. He folded his arms protectively over them and closed his eyes as he tilted his head back. Soon they were both asleep and the only sound coming from the backseat was Jean’s snoring. 

Eren and I snickered at the pair of them and struck up a whispered conversation.

“I still don’t know what to think about Trost,” Eren confided. “I’m pretty sure either the entire city is lame as fuck, or under mind control, or this Smith guy is a superhero.”

Trost had earned an impressive reputation among the nation’s top law enforcement agencies for its exceptional police force. “This Smith guy” to whom Eren was referring was Sheriff Erwin Smith, our soon-to-be boss. Smith and his elite team of officers had managed to cut Trost’s crime rate in half in less than 2 years - without doubling the incarceration rate. Eren wasn’t nearly as optimistic about it as Jean, Mikasa, and I were, though. 

“If those are the only the options I’d go with the latter. From what I understand, him and everyone on his team are just bad _ass_. I still can’t believe we actually have a chance to work with them.”

“I still can’t believe I’ll be getting paid to draw pictures.”

“To sketch information,” I scolded, “and you’re going to be the best damn forensic artist in the country. It’s scary how good you are. You’ll be a valuable addition to the team. You deserve every penny you’re going to get.” 

Eren thought it ludicrous to get paid for something that came so easily to him, to get a paycheck for just doing what he had always treated as a hobby. He remained convinced he had cheated “the system” and “real artists” somehow. He was understandably wary, accustomed to working hard for everything, but I recognized that he had a true gift and refused to let him devalue himself. He excelled as an artist and I couldn’t be prouder of or happier for him. My only worry, initially, had been that he wouldn’t take this job seriously, but I ultimately resolved that he wasn’t reckless enough to jeopardize a chance for all of us to be together.

Eren approached me with the idea of us all applying for positions with the Trost City Police Department after he discovered that they needed a forensic artist. While Eren was most definitely an artist, he had never considered trying to make a career out of it. He never really considered any career, truthfully. He just went to college because he figured it was what his parents would have wanted. He majored in Criminal Justice only because Mikasa had, though he ended up liking it well enough. They met Jean, also a Criminal Justice major, in one of their intro classes. He and Mikasa, both aspiring to careers in law enforcement, hit it off immediately and started dating shortly afterwards; our trio became a quartet. 

As the semesters flew by and graduation neared, however, we began to fear for our little group. The last thing any of us wanted to do was separate, but that was slowly becoming our reality. I, unlike the other three, had majored in Chemistry and was offered a job with a prestigious chemical company a few hundred miles away. Even Jean and Mikasa, who shared the same goal, were in danger of splitting - Eren had remained undecided on his future and Mikasa refused to leave him behind.

When the opportunity in Trost presented itself to Eren early in the last semester of our senior year, he came to me immediately. Even if he could admit to having at least _some_ artistic ability, he knew producing composites and age progressions required their own set of skills. I was thrilled to see him excited about something and agreed to help him at once. We practiced composites with strangers; I described what I saw and he would try to reproduce it. For age progressions I had my grandpa dig up photos of distant family members at various ages. Eren would look at a photograph of them, draw how he imagined them to age, and then compare his drawings with actual photos of them later in life. It wasn’t anything like a movie; there was no initial struggle that was overcome in the span of a motivational song. He proved to be a natural, yielding work worthy of critical acclaim. After seeing what he was capable of, I was convinced he’d make an exceptional forensic artist and told him I'd support him 100%.

After that, Eren revealed the remaining details of his plan to me. I wasn’t surprised that he anticipated Mikasa and Jean applying for officer positions at the same department, but couldn’t believe he had managed to find a way to include me in all of it as well. 

Trost was special in that it had its own crime lab, and my chemistry degree happened to be a perfect foundation for a career in forensic science. I wasn’t sure why the thought hadn’t crossed my mind sooner. As Eren excitedly pointed out, while I sat in stunned silence, I could begin study under a top forensic scientist in Trost and later apply for the Physical Anthropology program at Trost University. It was an excellent opportunity. Though a lab position wasn’t actually being offered at the time, I decided to send in an application along with the other three. My grades must have been satisfactory enough to convince Sheriff Smith to make an exception for me, because I received an invitation to intern at the Trost City Crime Laboratory the same day everyone else found out they were hired.

I was anxious to meet Sheriff Smith. I didn’t want to end up being a disappointment after he had demonstrated his faith in me. I never voiced this apprehension to Eren because I knew he would tell me I was crazy for doubting myself, and then he’d go on a rant about how Trost was lucky to have someone like me working to keep them safe, and end with accusing the Sheriff of being an ungrateful ass clown or a pompous shitbag or something. He was hopelessly biased – and endearingly defensive – when it came to me. I changed the subject before I could start brooding. 

“I found out that bar, Rose, that’s right down the road from us, has karaoke night every Saturday,” I mentioned suggestively.

Eren looked positively smitten. “Hell yeah! That's awesome. Oh god, Sheriff Superhero has _no_ idea what he's brought into town.”

The four of us had spent our free time in college at a karaoke bar near campus and became, more or less, local rock stars (me mainly because I was seen as the guy that could introduce fans to their favorite performers). I handled all the technical stuff, of course, and Jean, Eren, and Mikasa would take turns singing. Whoever wasn’t singing would dance around the stage, flirt with the crowd, and just be generally tasteless and inappropriate. Girls especially loved when Mikasa would sing. Though Eren was the most popular singer of the three, while Mikasa sang, Eren and Jean could concentrate more on misbehaving and taunting the horny bar patrons. There may have occasionally been a little more than taunting on Eren’s end, but hey, he was single and very surprisingly so. Jean and Mikasa were hopelessly devoted to each other, but even they got rowdy – probably one reason they fit so well together. Eren was actually offered studio time on a few separate occasions, but never expressed the slightest interest in it, insisting that he only performed to have fun with us. 

We hated to leave the lives we had created behind, but there were too many legitimate reasons to do it, not the least of which was Eren’s safety. Trost was probably one of the safest places he could to be. 

An involuntary shudder had me clenching my teeth. I glared out the window to avoid alarming Eren. I’ll never fucking understand why anyone would want to hurt him or why they had hurt his parents. They – whoever they were – had stolen Eren’s childhood and it didn’t seem to be enough. There were always signs that they hadn’t forgotten him – little signs to fuck with us. True, they appeared less and less often as time went by, but the fact that they happened at all was enough to fill me with rage. We all knew, after the first picture of Eren’s butchered mother had found its way into one of his schoolbooks, that whoever had killed his parents was watching him from afar, their interest in Eren’s life far from over. It was almost more than my sanity could take, but I had to stay strong. After all, Eren was somehow capable of it. 

I knew his self-control wasn’t from complacency, or apathy, or even fear. He just refused to be beaten. He knew falling apart wouldn’t bring his parents back. He knew that letting their murderer fuck up his life any further would just mean admitting defeat. He always found a better way to cope. 

The silver lining is that the way he found this time also happened to include his three best friends in the most harmonious arrangement ever. It was almost an insult to the natural order of the universe how well things worked out - how everything culminated in the four of us piled up in my SUV, our stuff loaded up in a moving trailer, headed for Trost and whatever awaited us there. 

 

_Eren’s POV_

"WAKE UP FUCKLETS, WE'RE HERE!!!"

Armin sat up, startled, rubbing his eyes. Jean and Mikasa ignored me.

I had predicted that Armin would start apologizing. “Aw Eren,” he groaned, “I’m so sorry! I didn't mean to fall asleep!”

"It's alright!" I grinned, "I'd still rather have you as copilot than Seabiscuit or Momma-kasa."

Seconds later, one of two unidentified flying objects launched from the backseat found its mark on the back of my head, confirming that both passengers behind me were now awake – and still unimpressed with my nicknames. I laughed, unperturbed by their passionate response, and reached for my door handle. 

“Yeah! Digging this energy, guys! You’ll need it for the heavy lifting! Let’s go, look alive!” I cheered, then evacuated the vehicle before they could throw anything else.

Three bodies stiffly clambered out of the car after me, moaning pitifully and asking nobody in particular what time it was. We had arrived right on schedule; there was plenty of sunlight left to see us through unloading the trailer. I made sure to say so and danced out of Jean’s reach before he could land an attack on me. Armin ran to the front office to pick up our keys while I ventured to back of the trailer. 

Wrenching the doors open, I tried not to be overwhelmed by the amount of crap we had to unload and instead decided to have a little fun.

“Ummm…”

Jean immediately noticed the worry in my voice. “Fuck. What is it Jaeger?”

“I… shit. Listen just, it’s not even that big of a deal. At least they’re not antiques or anything.”

I struggled to stifle the laughter that bubbled up in my throat as I heard Jean curse and stomp towards me. I slammed the doors shut and leaned against them to bar his access. 

I pretended to look anxious and waved him away. “Dude, seriously, just give me a minute!”

Of course I knew this would send him straaaaight to Freakoutville. 

“WHAT, Eren?" His voice was already climbing. "What is it? What did you fucking break? I knew I should have driven!” 

“I asked if you wanted to, Jean! I’m sorry! I’ll – I don’t know! We might be able to fix most of it!”

“FIX WHAT!? Move, damn it! Get the fuck out of my way!”

Surprisingly, at first, he tried just prying me away from the doors without hurting me. He shoved and pulled to no avail. I’m not really any stronger than he is, but while I benefitted from the traction of the concrete beneath me, he was left futilely attempting to find footing on slick, manicured grass. Every deflective push I gave his shoulder brought him nearer the point of hysteria. This was just so good to me. His face had reached a hideous shade of red. I was definitely about to get pummeled. Jean keeps me young. What would my life be without him?

Sure enough, his pacifism didn’t survive his anger and he finally swung. I dodged in time to watch his fist connect with the trailer. He cursed, snatching his hand back with a grimace. I let him know he was too slow and he lunged. His chest connected with mine, knocking me backwards. I wrapped my arms around him as I fell and we ended up a tangle of limbs on the ground. It became more of a struggle to keep each other from getting back up more than anything. If he tried to break away and make for the trailer, I’d grab his legs to trip him. If I managed to scramble to my feet, he’d tackle me back down. 

Armin returned in the middle of our brawl. I heard him shout for Mikasa, who had surprisingly not heard us. Together, they pulled us apart and I collapsed, giggling breathlessly. 

Armin knew I had done something to antagonize Jean and sighed in exasperation. Mikasa couldn’t seem to decide who to be angry with more and resorted to glaring daggers at both of us. 

“Well?” she finally asked. “Can I not leave you two alone for five minutes then? Do Armin and I need to find you a babysitter?”

Jean would have piped up first even if I hadn’t been shaking with silent laughter.

“I just wanted to see what was broken!”

Mikasa turned to look at him, confused. “What? What’s broken?”

“Eren said – “ I interrupted him with a loud snort. “- shut up, dick! He said a bunch of stuff was broken.” 

The worry raising his voice was like extra-crunchy, buttery waffles and warm maple syrup for my soul.

Armin made his way to the trailer and opened the doors cautiously. He stared for a while before turning to give Jean the same confused look as Mikasa. “What? Jean, nothing is broken… What are you talking about?”

At this point I was wheezing and clutching my ribs. My body wasn’t capable of making the noises I needed to sufficiently express my humor. This was all so worth the bruises I’d wake up with tomorrow from our little skirmish. Understanding gradually dawned on the three faces around me. 

Jean hissed. That scowl was a thing of beauty. “ _Fucking_ hilarious, Eren. God damn it.” 

He got up, dusting his pants and ego off and, and walked over to join Armin at the mouth of the trailer. Mikasa and I followed after I caught my breath and she had wrested a promise from me to leave Jean alone for the rest of the day. 

We reluctantly started grabbing boxes and soon the incident was all but forgotten as the next few hours passed by in a haze of cardboard and grunts and cursing. Little by little the contents of the trailer were unloaded, sorted, and carried into their respective apartments. 

After we finished and discovered that everything had survived the move, I asked Jean to apologize for being an asshole about my driving. 

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 

Armin and I collapsed on the couch, sighing as an air of content and exhaustion settled over us. My heart went out to Mikasa. Jean was probably trying to unpack and put everything up already – that little sunflower. 

We were lounging in what would eventually be the living room, but currently resembled a tiny warehouse, save the couch: a true relic of our high school and college years that had nursed many hangovers, breakups, and movie nights that started out as study sessions. The cardboard boxes stacked against the wall contained all of the inconsequential material items we had accumulated throughout our lives. There were a lot more boxes that read “ARMIN” in black marker on the side than “EREN”. If it weren't for Armin’s grandfather, I probably wouldn't have any boxes. Neither would Mikasa. We weren’t left penniless after my parents were killed, but even many thousands of dollars don’t stretch very far if it’s your only source of income. Armin’s grandfather raised us as if we were his own. The man was an angel, and Armin was just like him.

“I think we could just leave it like this.”

Armin snorted and rolled his eyes. “Yeah, sounds good.”

“No, seriously! I mean, we have the couch and your bed already, right? We’ll just arrange some boxes for a coffee table, then stack a few more for the TV stand and kitchen table, have a couple set aside for chairs and footrests, buy disposable tableware, and our lives will never be complicated again.” I’m a genius, no wonder Sheriff Smith hired me.

“So we’ll just unpack the bathroom stuff?”

“Not even that,” I decided. “A bathroom means toilet paper -" I started ticking items off with my fingers "- cleaning products, shower curtains, embroidered hand-towels, bath rugs, spare toothbrushes… ugh, just, no. There’s no point! We’ll piss outside, shit in Jean and Mikasa’s apartment – wait, actually, yeah, we’ll just use their bathroom. Ours can be extra storage.”

He squinted at me thoughtfully. “Suppose they won’t let us use their bathroom?”

For once my mind was working faster than his. “Because Jean is a dick? Yeah I just thought about that. On those days we’ll shower at the gym.” For extra measure I added, “And then there’s that gas station across the street.”

“What about our laundry?”

“Laundromat,” I quipped. Eren Einstein has a nice ring to it. 

“And food?”

“We never cook anyway.”

“… I’m sold. Fuck unpacking.”

That’s why I loved Armin - well, one of the many reasons why. He was baffling. I had to stay on my toes to keep up with him. I was aware he was unbelievably brilliant, but because he operated on an entirely different wavelength than everyone else, you could never know what to expect from him. His friendship was stimulating and exciting. Without him I'm sure my mind would have decayed a long time ago from too much pizza and porn. 

“We’re going to have statues erected in our honor, Ar’. I hope they make me look like Tarzan.”

“It could happen. You’re at least half as civilized him.”

“If we didn’t have to worry about copyright infringement you could be Arminnie Mouse. You'd look adorable with mouse ears.”

Of course he blushed at that. Armin was cute as a fucking button on the pants of a baby unicorn. The world probably couldn’t handle him with mouse ears. 

He didn't resist when I pulled his head into my chest for an embrace. We were like way-too-affectionate brothers. It was an entirely different relationship from the one I shared with Jean, whom I, admittedly, also thought of as a brother. I couldn’t pick on Armin the way I could Jean, nor did I want to. Jean wasn’t stupid by any means, but the thought of Armin taking any of my pranks seriously was just laughable. He never lost his temper the way Jean did, either – though Jean wasn’t really known for being one to fly off the handle. I like to think Jean just enjoys our fights as much as I do and probably doesn’t try very hard to keep his cool around me.

I loved that Jean and Mikasa were together, and I was so fucking glad that they hadn’t ended up splitting over my dumb ass. I had reamed Mikasa for even considering it, but if the roles were reversed, I probably would have done the same for her. The situation now was nice because we could still be close, but finally work on establishing some sort of autonomy. We had been inseparable since she lost her parents, but once I lost mine, too, we became almost interdependent. The only reason it never turned into something decidedly unhealthy is because we had Armin to dilute the connection after his grandfather took us in. 

The four of us were a family, and Trost was to be our new home. I wanted things to work out for us here. I wanted the people I loved to be safe and happy. Was that so much to ask?


	2. Beat Your Heart Out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AW HELL CHAPTAH ZWEI bum ba dow ba dum ba dow owwwwww JustinALIAS is on fire tssss.
> 
> I'll fix mistakes later, I have to go do responsible adult things now gross. 
> 
> Next chapter will be Levi's POV xD

(Songs for this chapter are Beat Your Heart Out – The Distillers & Spare Me the Details – The Offspring) 

“I don’t fucking care which cabinet the plates go in,” I said, kicking the DISHES box and turning to face Jean and Mikasa defiantly. “All the important shit’s unpacked now. Let’s get the fuck out of here. We can go to that karaoke bar Armin was talking about the other day.”

Armin shouted an agreement from the living room because he’s my fuckin' guy forever ‘til the end of time. I stopped glaring at our unwanted guests for a moment to smile in his direction.

Armin and I were being supervised because we hadn't finished unpacking. While fucking around and just pulling things out as we needed them had been our initial strategy, Jean and Mikasa intervened and insisted we get settled in before work on Monday. I talked to Armin seriously about putting both of them up for sale, but he said we should do as we were told since we still hadn't found our shower curtain among the moving debris. It was Saturday night and we weren’t completely finished, but Jean was one disapproving cough away from a foot up his ass. He was also starting to look way too comfortable lounging at our table in his sweats and sipping apple cinnamon tea – _my_ apple cinnamon tea. I walked over and snatched up his cup on principle alone.

“Well?” I snapped. My intimidation factor was maybe somewhere between the hand on my hip and the one holding a teacup in the air, but anyway.

Mikasa and Jean seemed to be in silent discussion. She smiled and shrugged at his raised eyebrow, to which he returned an exasperated groan.

“Ok Jaeger,” Jean sighed, rolling his eyes, “but I’m not getting up on stage, so don’t ask.” He grinned and winked at me, then glanced sideways at Mikasa as he continued, “I want to save my energy for your sister.”

If I wasn't already used to the douchey “sister” jabs I would have been tempted to make that wink a little more permanent, but I also knew I could count on Mikasa to retaliate.

True to form, she snatched the teapot off the table and crossed the space between them in a matter of milliseconds. She gave him a wicked wink of her own and turned the pot upside down over his head, showering him with several ounces of what was now lukewarm water. I'll tell myself for the rest of my life that she thought it was still hot because the alternative isn't _nearly_ as evil and funny. 

Jean sputtered, laughing, and shook his head, slinging water everywhere. He pushed his chair back with a loud scrape and jumped to his feet, searching for where his assailant had fled. His eyes met hers across the room and he grinned conspiratorially. A loud snort gave away the mirth she was trying to hide behind her hands.

“ _You_ ,” he warned, pausing while he navigated around the table towards her, “are in SO much trouble.”

Then he bolted forward. She let out an excited shriek and shot out the door as he gave chase behind her. Armin and I remained in the comical silence they left behind, shaking our heads in amusement, then headed to our bedrooms to get ready. 

My “getting ready” was sniffing out a clean change of clothes. Tonight’s probably clean outfit ended up being a plain black t-shirt and an old pair of jeans – pretty unremarkable, but comfortable, just the way I liked it. 

I stood in front of the mirror, regarding my appearance with only slight interest. My clothes were snug where I had built muscle training with the other three all spring. After getting hired on at Trost, we had made it a point to go to the gym at least 4 times a week. Armin and I didn’t exactly need to be physically fit for our positions, but we had fun competing with the other two just the same. I knew us being there helped keep them motivated, and I got a thrill out of testing the limits of my body. I also couldn’t let Jean look better naked than me. 

My gaze lingered a while on the simple key necklace I always wore. Only divine interference could be the reason why I hadn’t lost it after all these years. I didn’t even know what it opened. Its value was held only in what it represented to me, but I’m not going there right now.

There was no doing anything with my hair – ever – but whatever it insisted on doing most of the time seemed to work (it got a lot of compliments, at least). I actually enjoyed the length it had grown out to, but I figured I’d have to cut it for Sheriff Superhero. I wondered if there were any superheroes with long hair and all I could come up with was Wolverine and Thor. I don’t know though; that's not my area of expertise - I don’t think I have an area of expertise. And hell, can I even count Thor since he’s a God? Does that mean Wolverine is the only superhero I could use to make the case against a haircut? They were shit odds. 

I flipped myself off and returned to the kitchen. 

Jean was back – and dry. He and Armin were dressed pretty similar to me, though I probably came off slightly less trendy. Mikasa always told us we were attractive enough to pull off simple clothes so that was the single rule of style we lived by. 

She entered shortly after we had emptied a bottle of beer apiece. She was stunning in a simple gray dress and wedges. I’m pretty sure I shouldn’t care what wedges are, but fuck it, that's part of having a big sister. She looked beautiful and we made sure to tell her.

She blushed and thanked us as we showered her with compliments. Jean kissed her cheek affectionately and whispered something in her ear that made her beam and turn to embrace him. Only he could draw reactions like that out of her, but then again, only she could draw affection like that out of him. They were something else. 

Armin double-checked that the doors were locked before leaving like he always did and then we set off. We had all agreed to walk to Rose since it was so close. Jean made an extra commitment to carry Mikasa if her feet started hurting, even though he knew she’d never take him up on the offer. I told him he could carry me instead and he pretended not to get aroused at the thought. We hung a right towards downtown once we passed through the gates of our apartment and I was overcome with energy.

That brief feeling of infiniteness that comes at the beginning of a long night is empowering. Like the first sip from the fountain of youth, way before any of the nagging existential thoughts kick in. It’s all just hedonism and expectation. This was one of those nights: electric, thrilling in its promise and uncertainty. The air was warm but a cold breeze kept it from being uncomfortable. The sky was clear and calm and in perfect contradiction to the busy city around us. It hovered like a silent vacuum, swallowing the noisy sounds of life below.

I stared around me at the neon lights and cozy pedestrians holding hands. The smell of gourmet cuisine mixed with cheap bar food, cigarettes with perfume, and stale beer with coffee. Cars and strangers swept past us indifferently as we walked. I loved all of it. Trost was bigger than the previous city we lived in. There was so much to look at.

We decided to grab a bite to eat before going to the bar and found ourselves in front of a café called Maria a couple blocks later. The entire front was glass, permitting us an unobstructed view of the inside. I could see all the way to a patio in the back that was lined with plants. At first glance one might write off the appearance as plain and unassuming, but closer inspection made it clear that the interior was designed with every intention of complementing the colorful neighborhood surrounding it. There was a nice mix of industrial and rustic style – warm and inviting without being too mellow – kinda like if a city loft and a log cabin had a baby. When we made our way in I didn't feel as if I was getting an unwelcome respite from the bustling activity I had been enjoying outside. It was like we’d just ventured into someone’s really nice garage to hang out for a while, but with the door was open so we could still shout at people that walked by.

There were several groups of people sitting at the tables scattered haphazardly all around the room. A guy and girl were behind the counter. They took our order and we visited with them while we waited. We learned their names were Connie and Sasha, that Maria was open 24-hours, and that Rose was one of the most popular bars in Trost. 

I was already worked up over hearing the size of the crowd it drew and how well it was managed, but Connie sent me over the edge when he started talking about the resident karaoke band.

I turned to Armin in disbelief. How had he managed to leave out such a crucial detail?

“What the HELL dude you didn't tell me it was live band karaoke!!?” Oh my god. This was going to be so much better than using a backing track. If the band was good enough, I could sing potentially any song I wanted. Holy SHIT I may wet my panties and shove them in Armin’s mouth.

He laughed at how scandalized I sounded. “My bad! I just heard there was karaoke. I didn’t know…” He trailed off and his eyes widened in horror.

I checked to make sure Michael Myers wasn’t behind me, then turned back to him.

“ _What?_ ” I demanded.

“OH! - " like he forgot we were JUST having a conversation. He shook his head and continued in the overly cheery voice he uses when he’s trying to hide something. He’s the worst fucking liar ever, yet he stills tries to do it. “Oh yeah! No, it’s nothing!” See what I mean? It’s sad, really. He pointed at the food that had been set out from the kitchen in an effort to distract me from his terrible lying, “Good, that’s us! I’m starving!” 

I gave him a skeptical look that said _you’re 200% full of shit Blondie_ but decided to just bother him about it later. I was hungry too, and anxious to get to Rose. We grabbed our food and a table and ate in silence. It was the first meal I’d had all week that didn’t come out of a can. When I mentioned this, Jean and Mikasa were quick to point out that if we had unpacked our kitchen stuff sooner we could have cooked something. Joke’s on them though because the only cooking Armin and I ever planned on eating was theirs. 

After we finished we thanked Connie and Sasha and assured them we’d be back. I wasn’t the only one who loved Maria, and since it was so near our apartment we were sure to become regulars. They waved us out and we headed to Rose with Armin riding me piggyback as I led the way.

I was giddy as fuck by the time we got there. The place was _huge_ , much bigger than your average karaoke bar. It had to be to accommodate a stage for the band and the crowd it drew. It was so much more open, too. We heard the music long before we saw the building. We passed under the main doorway and waited to pay the door fee. It was all I could do to keep from running inside at full speed and knocking everyone over like bowling pins. I read a sign that announced performers get their cover charge reimbursed, which was pretty neat. The bar we always went to back home never made us pay and gave us free drinks, but only because of the crowd that came to see us. Perhaps this place didn’t tolerate shitty performers. Whoever was singing now was far from terrible, for sure. The big door guy took my cash and I followed the others inside. 

Despite how packed it was, we had no trouble finding a table. There were plenty of people on the dancefloor, but many were just enjoying the show. The stage was elevated so that we could see over the heads of those who were dancing even while sitting down. I took a moment to examine each of the band members while Mikasa and Armin went to grab the drinks. 

The drummer was a guy with tattooed arms and blonde hair pulled back in a bun. He looked so at ease as he played that I couldn’t help but envy him. Playing the guitar was a lively, tiny girl with a fiendish smile that didn't match the tenderness of her eyes. She seemed cool as fuck. The bassist had a crotchety disposition but it was clear he was talented and enjoying himself just as much as the other two. They played well together. I couldn’t wait to meet them. 

Jean started talking to me about this [video he watched](http://www.ted.com/talks/pamela_meyer_how_to_spot_a_liar) on deception and said that when people lie they usually speak formally and their body language doesn't match what they’re saying because when we lie we focus entirely on the story and forget to use the movements that would normally accompany what is said. He really wants to be an interrogator. 

I already knew that you could (most of the time) tell a real smile from a fake smile by looking for crow’s feet, but he also told me that, even if they’re aware of the trick, it’s still especially hard for someone to fake crow’s feet while they’re lying - that it went back to the body language thing. We practiced our own fake crow’s feet and started looking around to see if we could spot fake smiles and real smiles. I was about to point out a girl that was fake smiling at another girl when I noticed someone who wasn’t smiling at all. Whatever Jean had begun saying was tuned out and suddenly it felt like the floor fell out from under me.

I’ve been attracted to both men and women. I’ve fucked with both men and women (I’ve avoided relationships in general like the plague). Beauty’s just never had a gender for me. This man had to be the most incredible thing I’d ever laid eyes on though, male or female. Incidentally, I found myself wanting to call him pretty – and he was SO fucking pretty – but calling him pretty would just be lazy. I'd have to work for whatever words I'd need to adequately describe him. I’m thinking there’s probably not a single word in any language that would fit him just right and maybe that’s why people default to _beautiful_ all the time. 

He was mysterious more than anything, I decided. And by mysterious I mean he was contradictory as fuck, like the antithesis of himself. After all, it was the obscene sexual appeal he radiated that kept me from calling him simply pretty. He was sure of himself, I could tell. Every move he made was confident and deliberate. From his posture to the controlled expression of his face there was nothing uncertain about him. He could easily be menacing or dangerous, yet I couldn’t shake this feeling that he was safer to be around than anyone. When I first noticed him frowning, it suited him; he appeared bored or bitter, but then I realized he wasn’t either of those: he was pensive, calm – content, even – and that suited him just as well. I couldn’t begin to guess his age. He looked young, but then he didn’t. Every one of his features was sharp and defined above a _fuck me_ jawline and still he seemed soft. He had an undercut - black hair that fell in remarkable contrast to his pale skin. I couldn’t help but think of what it would look like next to the tan color of mine. Shit. I wanted him to look at me so I could see his eyes. Someone punched my arm.

"Just let me know when you feel like paying attention again, shitdick."

"Fuck you, Jean," I responded, but faced him just the same. "Sorry... that guy...” I nodded in the direction of my stranger.

He stole a glance and then looked back at me quizzically. “What about him? You know him?” I couldn’t believe how unaffected he sounded talking about him.

My eyes widened. “Dude. I know you claim to be straight as an arrow, but you can’t NOT see how fucking attractive someone like that is. Come on, he’s gorgeous.”

“Pfft not gorgeous enough to ignore me! Glad I’ve been talking to myself while you’ve been over here wetting yourself.” He started laughing. I was so distracted I didn’t even care.

“Hell yeah I have been! If he gets up I’ll – no, fuck! I can’t!” I groaned and dropped my face in my hands. I was always the one to be approached by someone else, not the other way around. I guess I never had to, but now there was a fucking Adonis not 10 feet from me that I really, really wanted to hook up with tonight, and I had no idea how to get his attention without being a loser about it. Except…

I met Jean’s eyes as inspiration hit and then lit up like the happiest candle in the universe. He knew where this was going.

“Eren, _no_. I told you we weren’t singing tonight. No,” he repeated. 

I gave him the most sincere look I could muster and grabbed one of his hands in both of mine, refusing to let it go when he tried to pull it back.

“Jean, I hate that I have to threaten you like this…“ he stilled and raised his eyebrows, “but if you don’t help me win the heart of that absolute fucking _dime_ over there… I’ll be forced to propose to you – “ his mouth dropped open “ – right now. In this crowded bar. Full of people that live here. It’ll be a night to remember.”

As an afterthought I added, “Especially if you reject me. I’ll make such a scene your grandkids will have nightmares about it.”

I could tell his resolve was breaking; he was trying not to laugh. 

“I could just walk away before anyone notices,” he tried.

“Good thing I have a stage to scream your name from. I’m sorry Jean, but if you don't help me get laid, then you’re gonna have to marry me. I should probably mention… I’m a good fuck - horrible cook.”

He cracked up at this and I knew I had won. I shot out of my seat to sign up for the next performance, passing Armin and Mikasa on the way. 

Mikasa caught me by the wrist “Eren, what – “ 

“Just ask Jean!” I shouted back as I pulled out of her grasp.

I noticed the bassist in discussion with a woman holding a clipboard when I approached. They stopped talking as I got closer and I hesitated. 

“Uh – “ I started.

“Are you wanting to sign up?!” the woman asked, confusing me with her enthusiasm. 

“Um, yeah. Yeah, if – if that’s ok?”

“Yes! Great! The guys that are supposed to be on now haven’t showed. If you’d be willing, you can go in their place. Are you ready now? Unless we have another no-show tonight is full anyway. You usually have to sign up at least a week in advance.”

“Oh!” I said, taken aback, “well then yeah! Sure! I need to get my friends. There’ll be 3 of us. I’ll go grab them!”

I fought my way back to the table and hastily explained the situation to Jean and Mikasa, pulling them out of their seats as I did so. He looked smug and she looked nervous. Neither emotion seemed to fit the situation, but I didn’t have time to question them. 

“Eren, wait – “ I had already turned to head back to the stage when Armin stopped me. Jean kept going, but Mikasa just hovered at my side, looking uneasy. 

I brushed him off impatiently. “It’s ok Armin, you don’t need to come unless you – OHHH!” I grinned as the realization that hit Armin earlier finally got to me. 

I hadn’t stopped to consider that since a band was playing, Armin didn’t have any "technical stuff to take care of" like he always said when we asked him to join us. He had no excuse not to get on stage now and he knew once I figured it out…

“HELL! YES!” I shouted, “Armin, bring your ass!” I tugged on his arm but he held fast to his chair in protest.

“No! Eren, just listen to me!”

Under any other circumstances I would have refused to take no for an answer, but Jean had already reached the stage, Mikasa was still weirding me out, and I knew the band was waiting. I released Armin with reluctance, deciding this was a fight for another time, and flicked his forehead playfully.

“Fine! You're off the hook until next time! I gotta go - hope you wore a bra to throw at me!”

With that I spun back around and, flanked by Mikasa, returned to the stage. 

The band was gathered to meet us and we all shook hands and introduced ourselves. The blonde drummer’s name was Eld and the feisty guitarist’s name was Petra. The grumpy-looking bassist introduced himself as Oluo and a guy behind him as Gunther and, pressed for time, got straight to the point.

“Alright, normally people sign up with the songs they want to sing a week ahead of time to give us a chance to prepare. That’s not the case here, but we still know enough that as long as you don’t go with anything too obscure we can probably manage. Since we’re running a little late you’ll also only have time for 2 songs instead of 3, do you know which 2 you want to do?”

I didn’t know how he managed to get all that out so quickly, but I followed what was going on. I looked back at Mikasa and Jean and they shrugged. Figures.

“Ok how do you guys want to do this?”

“You can do both,” Jean said quickly. 

“Uh. You sure?” Normally we’d have to fight over who got to sing.

“Oh yeah. It’s all yours _loverboy_.” There was that fucking smug smile again.

I ignored him and turned back to Oluo. “Ok uh, what about Beat Your Heart Out by the Distillers?”

It was Petra that answered, “Oh _god_ marry me after we channel Brody Dalle and seduce everyone in this entire bar.” 

I loved her already. “Fucking done. What about the other song? Anything you guys particularly like to play?”

“Well, assuming you can sing it,” Oluo interjected, “Spare Me the Details would be good for a night like this. We’re Offspring fans.”

I beamed. “Awesome! I’ll do my best!”

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 

PFFFFFT we fucking killed it. The crowd ate us up and we let them. Whatever weird shit Jean and Mikasa had going on before the show dissipated almost immediately after the performance started so we all had a blast. It was good to get back on stage. It was our way to relax. 

The band even asked us to come back the next week - and Oluo actually smiled at me! Apparently the way they normally do things is have people pay a deposit if there are songs the band needs to practice for. If they don’t pansy out and actually go through with the performance, they get their deposit back. For us, Oluo had said, the band would learn any song we wanted whenever we wanted, no deposit necessary. Rose wasn’t exactly hurting for business, but we connected with the crowd really well. We always had. We didn't take ourselves seriously. It was all about having fun and entertaining for us.

We were sweaty and high on life as we headed back to our seats. I was a little butthurt since my stranger had disappeared after the first song, but I tried not to think about it. The few times I’d chanced a look at him, he seemed so enraptured. I searched for him over the heads of the admirers that had gathered around our table. 

Armin was shaking his head in disbelief when we walked up. 

“What’s up?” I asked. Then a little coquettishly, “Turn you on?”

He blushed and gave me a relieved smile. “Eren you are incorrigible. I’m just glad you didn’t do anything inappropriate.”

“Why?”

“Well you would know if you had slowed down to let me tell you,” he sighed.

“We had to hurry. Tell me now, what’s going on?” I had noticed that Jean was looking smug AGAIN.

“Eren, I can’t believe you and Jean didn’t bother to read up on Sheriff Smith and his team even a just a _little_ bit.”

“So? What’s that got to do anything?”

“Eren – “

“Stop saying my name like that Armin!” I ruffled his hair, “just tell me, whatever it is, it can’t be that bad.”

“It’s really not that bad, but it could have been. Thank GOD you didn’t strip or … Oh my god,” he breathed (probably thinking about all the other things worse than stripping I could have done), but rushed to keep going when I looked ready to pummel him, “anyway, Eren, that man… The one you’re interested in? I don’t know where he is now, but he was sitting with the Sheriff.”

I looked at the table my stranger had been at earlier and finally acknowledged the other people sitting there. Armin jumped when I buried my face in my hands and started giggling uncontrollably

“OH my god,” I rasped, trying to keep my voice low, “Armin! Armin, if Sheriff Superhero is the one that looks like Captain America I will burst into flames. Holy. Shit.”

“He actually looks more like Aquaman to me,” he answered demurely, confirming my suspicions and sending me into fit of laughter.

There were tears streaming my face. What are the fucking odds of him looking like an actual superhero? I hoped so much that he had on spandex under his boring adult outfit. How was he so huge!? I’m sure his pecs had their own zip code.

When I finally calmed down, I noticed that everyone else had been laughing at my reaction. Armin was still chuckling when he finished what he had been saying earlier.

“ANYWAY, yes, that’s the Sheriff, and the woman with him is Hange Zoe – that’s who I’ll be interning under. I don’t know the other man with her, but the guy _you_ took it upon yourself to try to run your smooth fucking game on is Levi Ackerman. He’s the mastermind behind all of it. You’ve kinda got it wrong, actually. Levi's more like the superhero here. Maybe Batman to Sheriff Smith’s Harvey Dent - ante Two-Face. Levi’s not employed as a member of the department, but he’s an official part of the Sheriff’s team. It’s a little shady, but I guess nobody says much because they really do seem to be working in the best interests of the city. I don’t know - it’s not exactly public information. I only know as much as I do because I spent a lot of time digging.”

I took a moment to wrap my head around all this new information.

“But,” I started, “basically, I was trying to sleep with… my boss?”

“Basically, yeah.”

I kept a straight face, but cringed internally. Jean finally spoke up. _If I see that smile one more god damn time!_

“Yeah Armin told us all this after I showed him who you were hot and bothered over. I probably could have saved you some embarrassment, but then I wouldn’t want you proposing to me.” 

At this Mikasa and Armin looked at him like he was crazy and he explained how I had convinced him to get on stage.

Mikasa got pissed. She had agreed to perform in spite of our audience because she was trying to have my back. 

“Jean! I thought you really wanted to help Eren!”

“Yeah, help him make an ass of himself.”

I quit listening. Christ what had I gotten myself into?

Though I had managed to avoid directly informing my str – tch – _Levi_ … of the sudden and intense liking I had taken to him, it didn’t change the fact that it was there, and that I would be seeing him at work. All the time. As my boss. Fantastic. If this were _any_ other bullshit job it probably wouldn’t matter to me that he was my superior, but this one just happened to be keeping my family together. I need to back the fuck off and meanwhile I’m wondering if I unpacked the lube so I can jack it to him tonight. Fuck fuck FUCK.

Suddenly Levi emerged out of nowhere with two women following behind him and the noise of the bar dimmed to a buzz around me. I felt like Lester Burnham in American Beauty: Levi was my Angela Hayes. He approached his table while the ladies veered off to the bar. I would have testified that he snuck a glance at me before he bent to whisper in Erwin’s ear. Erwin seemed dubious, but nodded at whatever was said.

My eyes stayed glued to Levi as he made his way back over to the women. I didn't think anything of it until he walked up and staked a claim on not one, but both, women that were now clearly being hit on by two other guys. His arm was wrapped around one and he kissed the other. Is this real life? Where the fuck was this coming from? 

The two men turned away, obviously out. Then Levi and the two girls started heading towards the door. Wait was he seriously leaving with two women? All three of them were tangled together. One of the girls in particular looked just as smitten with him as I was. I didn't even care how hard I was staring. What the hell? I was so sure I hadn’t imagined him staring at me. I couldn't believe he was leaving to begin with, much less with TWO. WOMEN. I want to do unspeakable things to a man that can fire me, that I now suspect is straighter than Jean, and also now that I think about it, might for fucking real be Bruce Wayne. Fuck everything.

I decided to get drunk so I could forget my name and that Monday comes after Sunday.


	3. Nothing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FIIIINALLY!! This chapter just did NOT want to cooperate with me! Today was a snow day and class was canceled so I went all [Carolyn Burnham](http://crownyourgirlfriend.tumblr.com/post/102815882957) with a "I will finish this chapter today. I will finish this chapter today." Hahaha XD I need a beta though good god editing sucks the life out of me.
> 
> BEST NEWS: Smut in.... one or two chapters heheheheh >:) there will be so much smut in this fic jfc. *Ursula voice* It's what I LIVE for. To write smut for unfortunate shippers like ourseeeelves

(Song for this chapter is Nothing - Depeche Mode)

_Levi’s POV_

I hate going out, because I don’t hate going out - I just look like I do - which means that on the increasingly rare occasion I decide to show myself in public, I either have to deal with suburbia types who seem offended by the mere sight of me or inebriated assholes who think they can use my resting bitch-face as a conversation starter. I've heard everything from “wanna tell Daddy what’s wrong?” to “how about we loosen your tight ass up?” to “need a smile fucked onto that face?” The more tasteless the line, the more Hange loses her shit. Those who don’t get scared away by her scream-laugh are left for me to humiliate, then only when it’s too late do they realize they’ve entered a game of discourse that they’ve no hope of winning. I have no fucking problem making a fool out of someone who gets off on trying to make other people feel uncomfortable.

I’m approached with more disrespect than someone of my status probably would be normally because I’ve made strict efforts to ensure that I’m not easily recognized. My name gets circulated quite often, but it’s not necessarily associated with my face, so a lot people have no idea who I am when they see me. The integrity of my work relies on a certain degree of confidentiality and anonymity, thus the less attention I draw to myself, the better. 

Most only really know that some guy named Levi Ackerman works behind the scenes for Sheriff Erwin Smith. And while nobody seriously entertains the idea of Erwin being corrupt, secrecy remains an unavoidable breeding ground for distrust. Though I make every attempt to treat the situation with care and avoid doing anything to damage Erwin’s reputation (like not putting people in the hospital for harassing me), his involvement with me is enough to make most, at the very least, skeptical and uneasy. I’m an unknown element; people tend to fear the unknown. 

Still, our jobs are far from threatened. The statistics have all but cemented us in place. Where before Trost used to hold the highest numbers for almost every type of crime committed, the past two years those numbers have been halved. What once used to be a breeding ground for crime, now ranks among the safest districts in the country. Not because we’ve gotten better at responding to crime, but because we’ve gotten better at preventing it from happening. We’ve also managed to reduce the amount of resources used, thus permitting Trost to allocate funds to departments other than law enforcement.

Erwin invariably gives my name when asked to what he owes all this recent success, my low profile be damned. If I were actually present for any of those interviews, I’d interject that I’m only part of the equation. I wouldn’t reach my full potential if it weren’t for the combined efforts of everyone in the department, and while I do everything I can to be useful and counsel Erwin on matters of my expertise, it would mean jack shit if he wasn’t willing to trust me. At first, especially, trust was all Erwin had to go on. What I bring to the table is intuition, after all; it’s not scientific, not data-based, and not always logical.

I’ve always had exceptional intuition about people. Over the years I’ve done everything I can to hone my judgment and generate explanations for why people behave the way they do. It’s why I like going out. Going out is like a field experience for me. It gives me chance to observe people in one of their natural habitats. I can see how they behave and watch them interact with each other and use the observations I make to add to my ongoing research. I learn something new about people every time I venture out among them. People are simultaneously disgusting and beautiful, like wild animals. Years of study haven’t left me with the most optimistic outlook on human nature, but I’m by no means cynical, either: I have hope. 

No matter what, no matter how much we’ve learned or think we know about ourselves, we consistently remain beyond definition. We don’t fit within any single formula or theory. There is no uniformity or one size fits all or predictability. There's always room for surprise - there always ARE surprises. Others may claim this is because we have insufficient knowledge, but personally, I view this as evidence that we’re not obligated or bound to be any way for certain. Whatever glitch of ours it is that supersedes nature in favor of free will is exactly what enables us to grow as a species. It's more than adaptation, it's development. Do I think we still have a long fucking way to go? Yes. Do I think it’s impossible to get there? I don’t know – and therein lies the beauty. The uncertainty is what I live for. The tendency we have toward surprise is our saving grace. As long as we have the capacity for change, hope isn’t lost.

Against all odds, I chose to change. My parents fucking sucked. My childhood sucked. My friends sucked. I sucked too, for a while, but eventually decided that I could – and should – put myself to better use. Even back then I was intrigued by people, what made me and everyone else tick, so I ended up studying a combination of social and behavioral sciences. I found myself using what I learned to try to better understand crime and criminals. My criminal past made it easy for me to improve upon the knowledge I gained in school and soon I was forming ideas of my own. As it turned out, those ideas were valuable. For once I was in a position to contribute something worthwhile, to make a difference, and it made me happier than I had ever been before. The world I had spent so long hating, I was suddenly wanting to make a safer place. Surprising.

Erwin didn’t think so, at least. Neither did the committee that agreed to fund my thesis study in Trost. So it was here that I came to research criminal behavior further, test my numerous hypotheses, and provide support to Trost’s struggling criminal justice department. And I've been able to make a difference. 

It was Hange’s suggestion to go to Rose tonight since she, Erwin, and I would have four new college brats to start training Monday and _what better way to wind down than staying out late at a bar?_ I had asked sarcastically before agreeing. 

There was a sort of unspoken understanding of who would train whom. Erwin was to take in the two aspiring officers, Hange would drag the nerd along with her to the crime lab, and I was stuck with the artist. 

I was torn about hiring an artist. On the one hand, I wanted to test his skills and see if he could help me with a theory of mine on physical appearance and crime, but on the other, I didn’t have a lot of faith in forensic art. Eyewitness testimony is largely unreliable, after all. How could I depend on a drawing of a description, given by someone who might have glimpsed an alleged perp? I also didn’t want to deal with a kid fresh out of college. It's like you hand them a degree and suddenly everyone owes them something. I was that way at first myself, but learned real quick I wasn't going to get any special treatment from a piece of paper. The degree earned me an opportunity to be heard, but I had to have something to say.

I trusted Erwin’s decisions, however, despite my personal opinion. I knew he wouldn’t hire someone if he didn’t think they could be a valuable part of the team, but that didn’t mean I had to be excited about it. Any time Erwin breached the subject I ignored him. 

The bar was as noisy as could be expected for karaoke night. I followed Hange and Erwin to a table near the stage. We preferred to stay in the middle of the action in case any trouble broke out. It was a lot easier to get a problem resolved quietly from within the crowd – usually with just a few stern looks and the occasional escort out – otherwise we’d have to march through all the bodies and make a big scene to get things under control. Fucking buzzkill for everyone involved.

“Beer ok?” Erwin shouted. 

Hange and I nodded and Erwin made his leave to the bar. The beers here were cheap in general, but they were free for us since Hange’s husband owned the place. That's why we only ever came to Rose when we went out. This was fine with me because I liked Mike and his resident band was supremely talented. They were the reason why karaoke night was such a big deal here, of course. Mike was able to keep them around because he gave them a big check plus whatever was earned off ticket sales. Usually there was a 5 dollar entry fee and it added up quick. I’d accuse Mike of being generous, but I also knew he was an adept businessman. The base salary supplied the band with a steady form of income, while the money generated from the amount of tickets sold acted as commission – incentive to give the best performances possible – and to Mike that meant a consistently large crowd of customers who would stay and buy drinks all night and keep coming back. 

Erwin returned with two frosty mugs for him and Hange, and a bottle for me, because I don’t like mugs. I don’t even really care for beer, but I have to save liquor consumption for home. I’m a fun, horny drunk – a fact that I try to avoid sharing with the public. 

I drummed my fingers on the bottle restlessly, only half listening as Hange started telling us about her day. She rearranged the lab to accommodate her new pet, Arm, I think she kept calling him. Ever since Erwin had showed her his application, her excitement – already a force to be reckoned with – had reached distressing proportions. I didn’t know what the fuck kind of name Arm was, but didn’t bother asking about it because if I showed too much interest in him I’d never hear the end of it. She showed us a [comic](http://lowres.cartoonstock.com/law-order-crime-criminal-scientist-dna-forensic-ggm080327_low.jpg) that she’d printed out for him. It was a forensic science joke, but I got it, and it was stupid. It was like a negative sort of funny, where not only do you not laugh, but you don't know why you've ever laughed before, and you think maybe you'll never laugh again. I told her this and then she told me I was hilarious.

“Levi, I hope Arm and I get along as well as you and I do. I can’t wait to meet him! I need to see if he likes pencils _with_ erasers or without. I wonder if he wants a blue lab coat or white. Do you think he’ll want to –“

She was in the middle of screaming her question in my ear when whatever song that had been playing overhead was cut off.

“– SEE OUR CADAVERS?”

Bless her. I winked at a woman near us who had turned around in shock.

The silence lasted a matter of seconds as the band and three kids, two guys and a girl, filed onto the stage. The attention of the entire bar diverted to them. During the soundcheck one of the guys said something into the microphone that sounded like marriage vows. The other guy punched him in the shoulder and snickering flooded the speakers. 

They still had their backs to the rest of the bar when an a cappella track started playing - which didn't make sense because that defeated the whole purpose of karaoke. The band kicked off with the music and before I could start talking shit about lip syncing, the kids turned to face the bar and I realized the guy who had been punched was definitely _singing_. It was his voice I was hearing, not a track. He was good. Much, much better than anything I had ever heard here before. When I got a decent look at his face though, I froze. 

I had seen it so many times. So many times I’d stared at photos of him and his family. So many sleepless nights I had obsessed over their file and many others, spreading them all out over my kitchen table, willing them to give me another clue, to tell me what I was missing. Right now I’m recalling a particular photo of Carla and Grisha Jaeger, before they were murdered. In it they’re hugging two children to them, one, a daughter, Mikasa, whom they had adopted, and a boy, their son, Eren, who was the spitting image of Carla. Eren Jaeger. You see only someone’s picture for years and you really start to lose touch with the human in the photo. Now Eren, one of my photos, is here, as a human, right in front of me, singing. It was surreal.

Not even Erwin knew about my personal research. Eren’s parents were two of many individuals I suspected to be victims of a single serial killer. As far as I knew, nobody else had made the connection between any of them and all were treated as individual cases. I gathered information mostly in silence. I wasn’t about to cry wolf over a hunch, even if it was _my_ hunch - which holds some weight as far as hunches go. I had spent the last few years putting the pieces together, but I still didn’t have enough proof to justify the hassle of taking it public. It was my life’s work, honestly, and it was still frustratingly insufficient. 

What was Eren doing in Trost? What the fuck do I say to him? How _could I_ say anything to him? There was no fucking way for me to approach him without being a piece of shit. _Hey, you don’t know me, but I’m pretty sure your parents were killed by a mass murderer. Has anyone ever told you that your eyes are fuck-me green? Fantastic. What are you drinking?_

I didn’t have a reason for defaulting to a pick-up approach; I had no clue if Eren was into guys. But I had long since learned to be generous in evaluating the sexuality of men where I was concerned. I’m below average height, hippy, and deceptively delicate-looking. Straight guys looking to “experiment” find me exceptionally appealing. Of course, the attention is far from welcome. Straight guys have never had a problem coming onto me. They assume I’m easy because of this shitty myth that gay guys want straight guys. For one, I’ve never identified as any orientation; I just want who want. Second, anyone, male or female, that gets to fuck me is god damn lucky. Sexual prowess aside, I’m very selective. I won’t sleep with just anybody. I fuck on my terms, under circumstances that suit me. I’m not dishing out favors and letting some amateur random munch on my cock in the name of his spontaneity – and I’m fucking certainly not touching his. 

It was an extremely delicate situation I found myself in now. I couldn’t fathom how I’d ever run into Eren like this again. I wanted to talk to him, but for the same reasons I’d never bothered contacting him before, I decided I couldn't. I refused to go the dishonest route of striking up a friendship under the guise of innocent interest, I didn’t want to be just another person to interview him about his parents, and I didn’t have any good news for him. I always hoped that I’d eventually make some headway with their cases and I’d be able to call him up and tell him I was onto something, but unfortunately that wasn’t the situation tonight. 

My eyes had never left the stage. Maybe I just couldn’t bring myself to tear that smile off Eren’s face. He looked so alive, positively radiant. It was startling. I won’t pretend I had any notion of who he was just from the little bit of information I had on him, but I had incorrectly assumed him to be broken. The young man singing karaoke to a screaming crowd, acting a fucking idiot and dancing with his friends (one of whom, I realized - and nearly dropped my beer when I did - was actually Mikasa) was far from broken. He had overcome. Always surprises. I had to just leave him be.

Hange and Erwin and pretty much the entire bar had joined Eren in singing an infectiously happy song. I actually liked it too, but I was irritated by my decision to keep away from him and used everyone’s distraction as an opportunity to get a handle on my surroundings. I started looking for unusual or suspicious behavior – this was my sort of fun.

There were couples dancing and holding hands, a group of girls drooling over Eren, a group of guys pretending they weren’t drooling over Eren... then I noticed Annie, one of the bartenders, seemed distracted. 

I've always suspected Annie had a thing for one of the band members, but I couldn't say which. She never really gave off a vibe one way or the other and I’d never seen her with anyone else. She looked a little more nonplussed than usual tonight but I couldn't really care to try to figure out why. She was an anomaly.

Marco, the other bartender, was also stealing glances up at the stage as he filled orders. He appeared just as preoccupied as Annie, but unlike her, he DID give off a vibe. A strong one. That I’d already had to discourage. It was beginning to look like I might have to keep him off Eren as well. But then wait – what the fuck? No? No I won’t be keeping anyone off of Eren because he doesn’t even fucking know me and he absolutely doesn’t need my fucking protection. Fuck this. Moving on. 

I kept scanning. A girl in one corner seemed to have taken way too much of an interest in her purse. I was always suspicious of purses. I hated them for being so off-limits. It’s no problem to finger a guy’s ass looking for drugs, but fuck you for even _thinking_ of sticking your hand in a purse. Men are expected to be scared of purses and tampons and shit. Girls know that, too. Just hide drugs in your purse (or even better – your underwear) and you’re untouchable. 

Whatever, now she’s bent over it like fucking Gollum while the paranoid friend sitting across from her has eyes only for the bouncers patrolling the bar. She doesn’t see me watching. She doesn’t see anyone else watching. They’re both oblivious to everything around them. 

Sighing, I get up and walk over. They’re still so distracted with whatever the fuck they’re doing that they don’t even notice until I’m hovering over them. They look up and by their blank expressions I can tell they’re trying to decide how to react to me. Before they have time to, I get to the point. 

“I’m giving you one chance to flush whatever it is you have. I shouldn’t. I really fucking shouldn’t, but I don’t feel like dealing with this shit tonight.”

Gollum decided to be mouthy. “What the fuck – “

In an instant my eyes were level with hers. “If you have any remaining brain cells you won’t finish that sentence. Both of you, get the fuck up.”

Without another word they rose angrily and I followed them to the bathroom, not letting the plastic WOMEN sign deter me once I reached the door.

Erwin generally trusted my discretion. Most of the time I had to get him involved if I wanted to corner somebody. They would demand to see my nonexistent badge and as soon as they found out I didn’t have one, they thought it was over. I didn’t have a badge by choice. I didn’t want a legal obligation to enforce the law. Erwin knew my agenda. He could get rid of me any time he wanted, but he never did.

Fortunately, this was starting to look like one of those times Erwin’s presence wouldn’t be necessary since the girls weren’t making things complicated. As they were about to find out, I was much less concerned with the drugs than I was with making sure they were safe.

I tapped my foot, watching Gollum flush the stash of drugs with a pained expression while her friend stared up at the ceiling and chewed nervously on her lip.

“Ok here’s the deal,” I wanted to speed this up considering the three of us were locked in the women’s bathroom together and I hated public bathrooms in general, “I’m here with the Sheriff tonight. If you don’t want him involved, you’re both going to pretend you’re leaving with me. I’m actually ready to get out of here anyway so you’ll be doing me a favor. When we get outside –”

“We’re not going anywhere with you,” Gollum hissed, eyes narrowed into black slits. Her friend blushed.

“I wouldn’t _take you_ anywhere with me,” I hissed back. “You’re being escorted out, in case that wasn’t clear. I can’t watch you flush your drugs then expect to have a good time in the same room with you. You both just need to go home tonight. That’s what I’m gonna do. I’ll explain after we get outside.”

“We could just come back after you leave.” 

I sighed. “Yeah you absolutely fucking could, smarty. You could also refuse to leave now – you don’t have anything on you anymore, and I don’t have any proof that you ever did. But I think you need to take a mother fucking breather. You both need to go home. You two were so god damn busy worrying about your shitty illegal substances that you didn’t even notice that there were two guys watching you, just like I was. I was going to talk to you about it outside. They seemed a little too excited about drugs that they weren’t even taking - " the girls exchanged looks as they realized what I was saying - "I may very well have been wrong. There’s a chance that nothing would have happened, but there’s even less of a chance of you getting hurt tonight if you just shut _up_ and go home like I'm telling you to.”

The two guys. Of course I had seen them. I knew the bastards. Not personally, but Erwin and I had been on their trail for a while. We hadn’t yet been able to pin anything on them, but we both suspected there was something sick about them. It wasn’t a coincidence how much trouble followed them around. They were good at not getting caught. Every part of me _knew_ they would have tried to assault these girls tonight.

As much as I wanted to get the pigs behind bars, I couldn’t sit and wait for them to make their move. I decided to spare the well-being of the girls, even if it meant the other two disgusting pricks got another night of freedom. All I could do was have Erwin keep an eye on them after I left. 

The stillness was broken by a loud knock on the door. I knocked back and continued to wait for one of the girls to say something. Both of them were speechless. I could tell they were upset, maybe a little disbelieving, as they processed everything - what had been going on, what was happening now, what might have happened. I had wanted to talk to them about it outside so I could have some time to lecture them on being responsible and give them pointers on being safe in public, but Gollum had an attitude from Hades. I had also wanted to avoid upsetting them in here and risk the two douchebags discovering they’d been figured out. It was important that they remain under the impression they still had Erwin and I fooled. 

“Could we go with you?” The friend finally abandoned her right to remain silent I guessed.

“Uh.” What? 

“It’s still early,” she tried again, “I mean, we have to leave… and you said you’re leaving… we could just hang out together somewhere, you know?” I was uncomfortable with the size of her pupils. Especially since I was pretty sure she was sober. 

“Yeah…” Gollum said, “I’m a little freaked out right now. I don’t know what to do.”

I was in over my head on this one. I couldn’t get in touch with the emotions needed be sincere and supportive. Not to mention I hadn’t gotten over the shock of seeing Eren, or the dismay I felt at choosing not to talk to him, and all I wanted to do was swing by Maria for some tea (since I didn’t feel like making any myself) and go home and pour my soul into the Jaegers’ file once again. I wasn’t sure what Gollum or her friend expected of me, but I insisted that they just go back home where it was safe. They didn’t argue, much to my fucking surprise. Maybe they weren't so bad after all. Another loud knock on the door reminded us it was time to leave.

We finally exited the bathroom, walking past a sea of judgy, curious, and annoyed pairs of eyes. I had the girls wait by the bar for me while I went to let Erwin know I was leaving and that he should keep an eye on the douchebags. I noticed belatedly that the singing had stopped. Right before I got to Erwin I looked up, not expecting to find Eren as quickly as I did. He was there, not a few tables away. Our eyes nearly met and my heart lurched. Had he been looking at me? I tried not to think about it. 

I filled in Erwin as quickly as I could. He listened calmly, then asked whether I was aware that the douchebags were now with the girls at the bar. I wasn't. I'd let Eren distract me.

I walked up to the bar as casually as I could and slipped my arm around Gollum’s waist. She looked the most uncomfortable. She wasn't even being mouthy and that infuriated me. I grabbed the hand of the quieter girl and pulled her close to me with a forced smile.

“Who are your friends?” I asked with the air of one who couldn't give a shit less. “Do you need to tell them goodbye before we leave?” I nuzzled Gollum’s cheek for added effect. 

Both girls giggled, playing along.

“Oh no let’s just get out of here already. I'm ready to have _fun_ ,” Gollum said, clutching my shirt and pressing against me.

The two shitheads must have bought it because they glared at me with barely concealed contempt and turned away without another word. It took everything in me to let them just walk away. Who knew what they'd find to entertain themselves now?

The girls and I headed straight for the door, I didn't bother looking for Eren, what the fuck was I gonna do? Hug him goodbye? Tell him to call me later? 

Once outside we all seemed to loosen up, like we’d just entered a safe-zone of a video game. I started to open up the door of a cab parked on the curb when Gollum tugged at my arm. 

“Hey, listen, I… thank you. I don't know what else to say. I think you were right. I’m glad you did what you did.”

Again I just didn't have the energy to drudge out my kind of sincerity, but I accepted her gratitude with a nod, then rolled my eyes in exasperation.

“Tch, just be more fucking careful from now on. Both of you, go home, lock your doors.”

They both insisted they would, piled into the cab, and waved to me out of the back windows as it drove away. 

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 

The rest of the night would have been pretty uneventful had I not heard a kid behind the counter at Maria call his coworker “Mrs. Jaeger” while I waited for my tea.

“You're just jealous Connie!”

“Jealous?! Why would I be jealous?”

“Why wouldn't you be? He was perfect! Oh god I would _share food_ with that guy! Did you ever actually LOOK at his eyes? They – “

Jaeger? Eyes?

“I'm sorry, who are you talking about?” I interrupted.

Why. The. Fuck. Do. I. Care?

“Ah some customer who came in earlier,” the boy, Connie, answered, handing me my tea. 

“He wasn't just some guy,” the girl added, “he was – “

“Perfect, yeah I heard. What was his name again?” Shut the _fuck_ up Levi. Turn around and leave. 

“Eren Jaeger!” she said proudly, “he just moved here and he promised he’d come back to see me. It’s destiny!”

"Sasha, they all promised to come back. They liked the food." Connie said, trying to keep the jealous edge out of his voice.

I gave out a single syllable laugh and walked out the door without another word. Eren had moved to Trost. Maybe seeing him again wasn't as unlikely as I had thought. I didn’t know what this meant. I had so many questions but I could not have maintained amicable conversation with Sasha and Connie in my current state. 

I spent a little more time than I should have contemplating going back to Rose to approach Eren after all, but talked myself out of it. I needed to calm down. I was unsettled and optimistic and nervous and I didn’t know why. I grabbed a cab and settled into the backseat, lost in thought. When it pulled up to my house in what felt like an instant, I got out and marched through my door in a daze. What was this?


	4. Not An Addict

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ohhh my god I'm sorry hahahahahahaaaaaaaaa..... *cries* lolol
> 
> My excuse - plot is harder to write than smut. Show your plot writers tons of love today and tomorrow and every day. 
> 
> Enjoy. You know what happens next chapter... just... gotta finish writing the plot that leads up to it LOL.

(Song for this chapter is Not An Addict by K's Choice!)

Mornings are so nice because I have this sweet little blonde alarm clock that likes to come to my room and wipe my face with a damp rag until I wake up. It’s almost tradition now. Armadillo started it after Mikasa and I moved in with him and his grandfather. It was his subtle way of comforting me in the beginning – just being there for me in a way I was able to handle. It was a small semblance of stability at a time when it felt like the world had exploded at my feet and took me along with it, and every morning he showed up made it that much easier to heal, or whatever you call coming to terms with your parents being murdered. And I did heal. Eventually. But Armin never stopped showing up every morning, and I never asked him to. (I’ve always wanted to surprise him with a washcloth wake-up of his own, but I am NEVER out of bed before him.) 

After a week of sleeping in, the familiar brush of wet fabric under my eyes and over my eyelids and across my forehead felt amazing. I was already smiling when I blinked into consciousness. Armin was straddled on top of me but he was so light it took me a minute to notice. He grinned when I looked up at him. 

"Rise and shine, bitch,” he said, punctuating the last word with a sharp flick to my forehead. 

I laughed sleepily and stretched as he rolled off of me and out of the bed. I couldn't remember what I’d been dreaming about, but it left me with an inexplicable feeling of longing. I closed my eyes to go back, but what remained had been altered by my return to consciousness. I grasped at what I could – wooden floors and shadows, a feeling of peace and a thrill of dread, dark hair, pale skin – 

“EREN!”

I opened my eyes at the same time a shirt, pants, and underwear hit my face. Armin sometimes picks out my clothes. Especially when it’s for something important…

Like the first day of work.

Shit.

Work.

Levi. 

I groaned.

“What’s the matter Romeo?” Armin snickered, sensing the source of my dismay and electing to be an asshole about it. 

“Shut up Ar’ you know you'd fuck him.” He gasped like he always does when I bring up sex with guys, and I ignored his gasp like I always do when he gasps when I bring up sex with guys. 

“Eren!”

It was evil to pry myself out of bed but I did it. I straightened with sleepy grunt and tossed my clothes over my shoulders. Armin was still blushing. He always got embarrassed when sex was brought up. Especially sex with guys. I think because he’d never actually slept with a guy, even though he wanted to. 

“Admit it!” I teased. I knew what was coming next and why.

“I would not! I mean - I don't know! Maybe, I guess!! No… I mean _yeah_ he’s _attractive_ – “

“ – but _’he’s not my type’_ ,” I mocked.

"Well, he's not!”

“Oh yeah, right, I know your type,” I started ticking items on my fingers, “Blonde hair… blue eyes… Terminator body… giant eyebrows... “

“Ignoring you. Ignoring you.” He had already turned away from me and was avoiding my gaze under the pretense of picking up my dirty clothes.

Armin made the mistake of popping off something about the Sheriff being hotter than Levi and I hadn’t let him forget it. The only thing crazier than his immunity to Levi was his preference for that giant blonde superhero. He insists his eyebrows don’t look like caterpillars – but they do. 

He disappeared when he was certain I wouldn't go back to sleep and before we fell into another argument over Levi and the Sheriff, and I headed for the shower. Another good thing about Armin getting up before me is that he always showers first. We never have to worry about fighting over the bathroom. Unless we’ve both just had Jean’s Indian food – then that’s every man for himself. 

I stumbled into the bathroom, throwing my clothes in the direction of the counter and blindly feeling around for the light switch. Muscle memory was a bitch to retrain. My fingers finally met resistance and the bathroom flooded with light. 

I saw that part of my shirt had landed in the sink and hoped that Armin hadn't brushed his teeth yet. I kicked the door closed behind me without locking it, because, unlike him, I’m not a fan of locked doors. You can bite the “opportunity makes a thief” treat if you want, but the kind of people you really need to worry about aren’t going to be discouraged by a simple door lock. I would know.

I turned the shower on and hopped around impatiently, naked and cold, dancing the hokey pokey to test the water temperature. Left hand in-GOD _FUCK_ no left hand immediately back out, right hand in, right hand out, left foot in, left foot out, right foot in… yes, YES… left hand in…. wait for ittt, wait for it… YESSSS ok nice!

I knocked a shampoo bottle over in my hurry to climb in and flinched at the sound it made as it crashed onto the floor of tub. I cursed, bending to pick it up and slam it back into place, then pulled the curtain shut behind me. I sighed, heavy and tired, and let my head loll back into the stream of water, shivering as it washed over me. 

I closed my eyes and willed myself to relax. The other day Armin said he read something about the sound of running water being a kind of white noise and that it could be why we seem to think so much in the shower. I had commented that that made sense, but then he went off about how it hasn't been scientifically proven that we think more in the shower than other places, so we can't actually make the claim that the sound of running water leads to more thought, but that it would be an interesting theory to try to prove and that perhaps maybe he would one day.

I spent all day Sunday recovering from the hangover I earned for being a big pussy on Saturday. I’d had some time to mentally prepare myself for a likely encounter with Levi today, but I still wasn’t looking forward to being in a shitty, claustrophobic office with someone who makes me feel like I’ve swallowed a beehive. 

But I’m gonna do it anyway, because I’m an independent woman and I pay my own bills and I don’t need no man. _He’s_ the one missing out. No washcloth wake-ups or body worship or lullabies or private lap dances or naked massages or cuddling that turns into sex _for him_. _His_ loss…

And _now_ what I don’t need to think about is the stuff _I_ might be missing out on… like seeing how his hair looks fanned across a pillow… how the buzzed part of his undercut feels under my fingers… hearing him say my name… feeling his chest pressed against mine… seeing the way his skin glows under moonlight… watching him undress for me… finding out how well his cock and thighs fill out his underwear… having those eyes looking up at me… his lips stretched around my cock and theeeere’s the boner what’s upppp. 

 

Unfortunately, I’d fucked around too much this morning and didn’t have a hell of a lot of time before leaving for work so I had to apologize to the homie downstairs and switch on the cold water, cutting my shower much shorter than usual and shitting on any chance I had at an orgasm. I clambered out in a rush, teeth chattering and breath coming in short bursts while I pulled on my clothes. I am Eren’s waning dignity.

Time passes so fucking fast in the morning. I don't even know how I can walk from my bedroom to the bathroom for a quick shower and walk straight back and take 30 minutes. I swear to god I can spend 10 minutes scratching my ass for 5. 

I found Armin in the living room eating cereal, one of our staple breakfast foods since we can’t cook. I grabbed a banana and dropped beside him on the couch. 

“Jean and Mikasa are probably eating French toast and bacon,” he grumbled. “We should learn how to cook.”

I snorted. The notion. 

He wrinkled his nose at the half-eaten, overripe banana in my hand. “Well you aren’t impressing anyone with _that_.”

I wrinkled my nose back. “Who am I trying to impress, dick? I’m just eating.” 

“Yeah, but if you ever have someone stay with you and you want to cook breakfast for them, you can’t just wake them up with an old banana.” 

“I know a banana I _can_ wake them up with,” I said, wiggling my eyebrows and grinning when he rolled his eyes. 

He scoffed and shook his head. “And that’s why you’re still single.” 

We hurried to finish eating then filed back into the bathroom to brush our teeth before we left. I made sure to gargle my mouthwash longer than Armin did because everything is a competition that I must win. 

We met Mikasa and Jean coming out of their apartment. Mikasa reached up to run her hand through my hair and asked if I brushed it and I told her yes even though we both knew that was a lieee. Armin ensured that both doors were locked and we all walked out to the car together. 

It was Armin’s turn to drive and as soon as the car was on he switched the radio to an early morning news station. He’d leave it there the whole time. I wasn't even allowed to change it during commercial breaks because _“you won't know when to change it back, Eren!”_ I had grown out of fighting him on it, so I leaned back and closed my eyes, content to snooze until we reached the station. 

Seconds later I heard a news anchor voice say _“… found murdered this morning – ”_ and my eyes flew open again. 

I sat up. “Is this local news?”

Armin waved his hand to shush me, his expression serious as the report continued.

A woman's body had been discovered in a hotel room in downtown Trost. We kept hearing the same thing over and over as the two local reports on the show continued to repeat the story headline and dissect a fruitless 10-second interview with the hotel manager that they procured as if maybe they would solve the case if they echoed the same facts enough. Armin punched the power button without taking his eyes off the road.

The silence in the car was deafening. None of us said a word, but we were all thinking the same things. What are the _fucking_ odds a murder takes place right after we moved here? Wasn’t Trost supposed to be safe? What more was there to find out? What would happen now?

I looked out the window. The sky was a premature morning blue – bright white near the horizon and streaked with rays of light that fanned out and made the clouds look like they were glowing. It was beautiful. 

It’s hard to accept that people stoop to something as repulsive as murder when you consider it in the face of nature. How could anyone feel like they’re important enough to cast judgment on someone else while they stand under a sky too big to imagine? How do you look at the sun and still think your vices should be taken seriously? How can you hear the ocean and drink from the earth and then give rise to death?

I don’t remember what it was like outside the day we found my parents. The thought upsets me, but I’ve learned not to dwell and quickly blink away the burn that had started to creep into my eyes.

As far as work went, I didn’t know what this meant for us. I really had no idea what the Sheriff’s initial expectations were, but I couldn't imagine that we’d be helping with a homicide investigation on our first day. The station was going to be a fucking circus this morning.

Sure enough, the parking lot already was full and bustling with activity when we pulled up. Armin had to parallel park (thank god it was his turn to drive today) across the street. 

I was greeted with a cold, part-disheartening, part-exhilarating breeze when I opened the door, and I shivered as I took in the view of our new second home. 

Trost’s police station was actually pretty graceful and welcoming-looking if you ignored the fact that it was a police station. You wouldn't even know what it was if the words weren't emblazoned in silver above the entrance. I appreciated the dark brick and generous landscaping. I like greenery, but can’t ever manage to grow it on my own. 

We walked over and made our way up to the front doors. Dozens of reporters were waiting outside their vans like some kind of paparazzi obstacle course. Several tried waving us down for an interview, others fell in behind us, shouting questions and asking for comments. The whole thing was a little overwhelming. It felt like a scene from a movie. Scream, maybe. 90’s Neve Campbell is my goddess. 

An older man with an anchor beard was standing guard near the entrance. He frowned with distaste as we approached, probably assuming us to be reporters, and when it was clear that we were headed for the door he stiffened and held out his arm like a pink, fleshy barrier.

“Personnel only,” he snapped. It would have been scary if he didn't look like such a douchebag.

Armin nodded, polite but self-assured. “Yes sir! Right, we’re ah – we’re all new here – s’our first day. We’re supposed to check in and wait for the Sheriff. Can you tell us where to go?”

The man raised an eyebrow, regarding us with suspicion and acting as if he was mulling over this information – when in reality we had no proof we weren’t lying and he had no proof that we were, so there really wasn’t anything to “mull over”. After a bit he reluctantly stood aside for us to go through, barking out directions as we passed that I only hoped one of the others caught. I revert to Caveman Eren when others are around to listen for me. 

Armin acted like he knew where he was going so we followed him and ended up in a smart-looking reception area. We spent a good chunk of time there proving identification and then going through a bunch of papers that I didn't read but signed nonetheless. After gaining clearance into the main part of the station, we were pointed past an open foyer and down a hallway that was pretty much nothing but windows. I wondered if they were bulletproof. There were offices and storage and what looked like interrogation rooms. The blinds were pulled on a few windows, but most were open for me to sneak a peek into. I caught glimpses of a few people behind their desks and others pacing around and talking on their phones. The further down the hallway we went, the quieter the station got. It wasn’t eerie – just calm. I liked it.

We entered a modest lounge of sorts. Normally lobbies and lounges depress me because no matter how hard they try to seem inviting, that clinical, superficial, you’re-not-at-home-so-don’t-get-too-cozy feeling never subsides. You just want to sprawl out and go to sleep, but no, you need to sit pretty and watch a muted TV shitshow and wait for someone to “be with you shortly.” 

The place we were in now wasn’t _so_ terrible though. I guessed that it was used often, and though nothing was brand new, everything looked loved. Where a set of fucking ugly chairs and a table normally would be there was an old leather sofa and worn-out ottomans with big pillows and fuzzy blankets. Instead of outdated magazines there were books and puzzles. There were more puzzles framed on the wall along with photos of people doing all kinds of stuff like swimming and hiking and skiing. Soft instrumental music was coming from one of the laptops on the table. Wood and earthy tones replaced plastic and shades of white. It smelled good in here, too. In fact – shit – I couldn’t smell any coffee.

That won me over. I hate coffee, the smell even worse than the taste. (I’ll go hard on a Colorado Bulldog every now and then, but they don’t even count as coffee.) I just _knew_ I’d be surrounded by millions of those tiny red coffee straws and gritty coffee grounds and coffee stains and trash cans full of wet coffee filters. I mean, come on, who doesn't associate cops with coffee? Now here I am in the fucking belly button of a police station and I don’t see a single bit of coffee paraphernalia anywhere.

The lounge was deserted aside from us and we tried our best to make ourselves comfortable in spite of nerves. Armin was nervous by nature, first day of work or not. Mikasa and Jean were nervous about meeting the Sheriff because they were worried that he’d recognize them from Saturday. I’d moved past nervousness into fuck it because I very much doubted that I wouldn’t be recognized – literally everything I did onstage Saturday was to get attention, _specifically_ from _their_ table – and worrying about the ramifications now would just give me diarrhea. 

Armin, in a shifty attempt to be reassuring, tried reminding us that the Sheriff and Hange had sung along during our performance – it wasn’t the Sheriff or Hange I was worried about though.

All of my previously repressed thrill and anxiety had returned with a vengeance. The only thing in this world I wanted more than to see Levi was to not see Levi. Ever. Because I’d rather live in fantasyland and never find out that I actually don't have a shot in hell. Here is always where the memory of him tangled around the two women from the bar comes in and dilutes my enthusiasm enough for me to realize that I most likely _do not_ have a shot in hell. 

There were so many things working against me. He was (very likely) straight, intimidatingly single, super successful, and probably not the type to mix business with pleasure – especially for a random newbie straight out of college. Fuck me, right?

I wasn’t ready to find out I had no chance. I liked letting my imagination run wild. I hadn’t felt so alive in years. _Why_ did he have to be my fucking boss? _Why_ was I being a little bitch? _Why_ did I want to be his bitch OK Eren knock it off.

I could have cut my tension with an accidental wave of a plastic butter knife. I was stretched tight as one could possibly be – sharp and stiff and painfully alert – wanting Levi to walk in but also wanting to never see him again but worried that I might not see him again but then again what if I did see him again – Jean cleared his throat and I nearly vacated my skin.

He raised an eyebrow, regarding me with a look of mingling pity and disgust. “Dude you’re a fucking disaster.”

“Thanks that’s exactly what I’m going for.” Sarcasm is the suit of armor I wear into verbal battle.

“No I'm serious. You need to get it to-fucking-gether before I knock the shit out of you.” 

Before I could dare him to try that he continued, “There’s been a god damn homicide, Eren. We’re in a police station surrounded by reporters – “

That stung. “ _I KNOW_ -“ I interrupted defensively,

“ – and we’re about to meet our _bosses_ – the best police officers in the entire country. All three of them are the _elite_. This guy Levi is supposed to be a fucking _genius_ –“ 

“YEAH I –“

“ – but they _still_ think you have something valuable to offer or they wouldn’t have hired you. They need you. So prove how talented you are. You’ll impress them so much if you don’t fuck this up. Let them see what you can do. Give Levi a chance to get to know you. If he’s into guys I can’t imagine why he won’t end up freaking out over you too.”

\- WELL I NEVER. What a delightfully unexpected turn! Who knew Jean was so thoughtful! What a peach. What a doll. What a –  
“Jean?”

“What Eren.” It was a statement, not a question.

“Remind me to give you some sugar cubes and carrots later.”

There was a loud burst of commotion as Jean lunged at me over Armin’s lap and I toppled out of my chair to get away. Armin was trying to restrain Jean and Mikasa was whisper-yelling for us to be quiet when the door to the lounge opened – to reveal none other than Erwin, Hange, and Levi. All the air around me seemed to condense and collapse around my chest.

Standing there together, they made a formidable sight. Before coming here, they’d just been names to me. Then at the bar they’d just seemed like ordinary citizens. For the first time since deciding to come to Trost, I was finally, in that moment, punched in the face with how much of a big fucking deal these guys are. They are the best in their fields – trained professionals who have earned the respect and admiration of millions, and we were actually, somehow, by some freak fucking miracle, lucky enough to even be considered worthy enough of a single minute of their time… and there we were, discovered wresting on the floor. 

But Erwin… didn’t say shit. Didn’t even seem phased. Just waited without a word until we were all lined up in front of him.

And there isn’t any doubt I should have been listening to what he began to say, but it was Levi who ended up with my undivided attention. I tried not to stare, but I'd only seen him from a distance Saturday. Now with only a few feet between us, I was spellbound.

To say that he is visually striking would be an understatement. He just didn’t _fit_. He was shorter than everyone but Armin, and yet his was easily the most intimidating presence. There was something in his demeanor that communicated a complete lack of fear. It wasn’t arrogance so much as a threatening sort of… composure. He seemed completely at ease despite his smaller size. Erwin was fucking massive by comparison, but he gave off this gentle giant aura. If he were a dog he’d be a Saint Bernard. Levi would be a Doberman. And Hange… would be a Chinese Crested or something.

I glanced over at her and saw that she had Armin locked in a tight embrace. I figured I missed something because Armin was now pale and wide-eyed, opening and closing his mouth wordlessly while she shrieked in his ear. Everyone all looked sympathetic. Except Levi, of course, who seemed… bored – if that was the word for it.

“– and everything’s already set up! They're going to enjoy a fresh set of hands. Speaking of hands, make sure you shake them if they have them and introduce yourself _before_ dissection; it makes them more comfortable.” 

I – yeah, no I’m glad I missed most of that. 

I belatedly notice their uniforms. I’m sure they weren’t meant to be arousing, but on Levi… probably anything is. 

They were simple – loose gray pants and fitted black shirts tucked into black leather belts. The problem was that Levi’s uniform fit him in such a way that it accentuated a body I didn't expect him to have. 

He was slim, but he had an actual figure, with a delicately narrow waist and wide hips that gave him a slight hourglass shape and me a slight hemorrhage. His collarbones were smooth and well-defined, peeking out from behind his shirt and I felt like I was being fucking seduced while he just stood there. 

I concluded that he was likely much stronger than me and that excited me. I could see the power in his forearms where his veins protruded and the intriguing swell of his biceps and thighs were obvious even through his clothes. His entire body was lean and firm with muscle, like a runner or swimmer. I wondered idly if he was either. 

He was just stupid attractive, a hardbody with porcelain skin, razor-sharp features and hauntingly beautiful eyes and wow what the fuck is it hot in here or did I just plummet to the depths of hell?

Despite me shamelessly checking him out for the better half of 5 minutes, Levi still hadn’t looked at me. I was starting to wonder if he was trying not to when, probably on accident, he did, and time definitely stuttered.

I’d mourned the fact that I never got the chance to see his eyes Saturday, but I never would have imagined all that I’d really been missing. 

Levi’s eyes were a brilliant, wintery blue – almost silver, shadowed by heavy lids and dark circles, and lined with lashes as black as his hair. The effect was remarkable, making him look both highly alert and terribly exhausted at the same time. 

He communicated so fucking much – probably more than he intended – with just a single look. He wasn't bored, I realized, but preoccupied. Something was on his mind. Was it the homicide? Would he and the Sheriff and Hange lead the investigation? Had they found something out? The others were carrying on a conversation around us, but Levi drowned them out. He was screaming. How has nobody noticed? I'd never seen such expression and _life_ in a pair of eyes before. They were incredible. He was incredible.

He didn't let his gaze linger on mine long before he blinked and looked away. It may have only lasted a second, but it was like a rollercoaster second. Where morning time is gone before you can count it, rollercoaster time takes forever. You can be on a rollercoaster for ten seconds but for that entire ten seconds you lose sight of any beginning or end. And now I'm here, dazed, trying to come down from the ride of my life while everything else is just continuing as if nothing has happened. God damn it why are we still standing around? I noticed my hands had curled into fists behind my back and I let them fall to my sides. 

I kept glancing at Levi, hoping he’d look at me again. I wanted to convince myself that he'd been just as caught up in our brief moment of eye contact as I was, but he remained impassively, irritatingly stoic for the remainder of Erwin’s speech. 

“Are there any more questions?” I heard him ask later, wrapping up his lecture. 

I hoped I didn't have any because I hadn't heard a fucking word aside from the crazy shit Hange said earlier. When everyone began moving and I remained frozen in place, I experienced that terrible, disorienting confusion one feels when they’re sure they’re the only one who doesn’t know what’s going on. 

I watched, helpless, as Erwin led Mikasa and Jean back out the door he’d come through with Levi and Hange. Mikasa glanced over her shoulder at me with a worried expression before retreating out of sight. I made a mental note to tell her to stop doing that because it creeps me the fuck out every time.

Armin followed Hange, a little less willingly, it seemed, out of a different door. He too glanced over his shoulder with a worried expression, but the worry was clearly for himself, not me. A laugh almost dared to bubble up in my throat when a soft cough came from in front of me and my head spun back around. Levi and I were now the only ones left.

Fuck. What do I do now? Should I leave? Am I supposed to be doing something? Are we waiting for someone? Can I move? Do I look confused? 

"You weren't listening.” 

Ahh boy. And just like that, his voice… low and fluid with a calm, authoritative certainty that fit him _so_ well instantly became my favorite thing about him. It was an exciting mix between “everything’s gonna be ok” and “put your hands behind your head, bitch.”

Intuition told me not to lie and I answered honestly. “No,” I said, “I… wasn’t, I’m sorry. I –” I tried to conjure the effort to apologize further but instead my eyes and shoulders fell in useless despair. This was getting off to a horrible start. 

There was silence for a moment and then – “Neither was I.” 

I looked back up to find him staring at me. My mouth went dry. I couldn’t tell if he was frowning or not, lying or not, or whether he was even mad. His eyes were so disquieting that it was hard to think. Before I could worry about responding he continued.

“I’ll be in the one in charge of your training,” I screamed internally at this but remained outwardly complacent, “I don't know how much I can help you because I'm not an artist, but anyway, you're my responsibility until you're ready to work alone.” I was still trying to overcome my stunned silence when he grimaced and added, “Levi, by the way. Not ‘sir’ or ‘Mister’ or any of that shit. Just Levi. Any other honorific but ‘Doctor’ is a waste of time. And I’m not a doctor.”

“Yes s – okay,” I said. Then, feeling incompetent for giving such a short response but not wanting to say some dumb shit like hi Levi nice to meet you I included, “I'm Eren. Uh. Jaeger.” Because that's much better. Because he doesn’t already know who I am. Because I’m a social potato. 

He didn't smile at this, or even acknowledge that I spoke, really. Just stared, through me more than at me. Something was definitely eating at him. I was sure it was the homicide. I wanted to know more. I considered asking about it but then – no, fuck no. I had no idea how to deal with this guy. The more he spoke the less sure of him or myself I became.

Awkward with uncertainty, I searched for a distraction. Scanning the walls, the ceiling, the floor, my shoes, the area under the table that hadn’t been swept –

“Are you okay?”

“Uh,” I was still out of it when my eyes came back up to meet his, still just as dazzling as before. “S – ah, um – yes? Levi? Sir? I mean, Levi – ” _MOTHER OF GOD Eren_ stop talking. 

Levi was either impatient or amused, I couldn’t say which, with one eyebrow raised as he crossed his arms. “Maybe that answers my question. Are you hungover? Don’t disappoint me by saying yes, don’t disappoint me more by lying.” 

My weird behavior just happened to not be alcohol-related so I was lucky this time. “No. No I’m… I’m just nervous,” I muttered. 

He nodded, accepting my answer, then turned and motioned for me to follow him. “Come on, let’s get the boring introductory shit out of the way.” Then he walked towards a different door, leaving me in a speechless daze. 

I hurried to follow, but my mind was reeling. What kind of interaction was that? I silently resolved to be more confident. If I kept letting Levi affect me like this I’d never be any use. 

I forced myself to ignore the provocative way his hips moved when he walked. I went on autopilot for a while, content to follow along quietly as he gave me a tour of the station, enhanced with his own personal commentary.

We passed a room that was covered floor to ceiling with newspaper clippings and sticky notes and posters. Levi waved a hand at it as we passed. 

“A pig sty that Nile tries to claim an office.”I wanted to ask who Nile was, but didn't, and Levi didn’t elaborate further, so that was all about Nile. 

We kept walking, passing people carrying files and interns pushing carts, then a pale finger directed my attention down a dark hallway to our left. 

“The interrogation rooms, but they’re empty more often than not, so everyone just comes down here to shit. Or just to avoid work and pretend to shit.” I actually laughed at this.

We walked past more rooms and hallways until I wasn’t sure where we were anymore. As if reading my mind, Levi said, “You’re not even going to remember most of this. I’m done. I want tea, you thirsty?”

I was. I felt like I'd been cooking from proximity to Levi. A bucket of ice water would have been preferable to tea, but I wasn't going to say so. I just nodded and he gestured for me to follow him into another lounge. This one was even better than the first.

Levi visibly relaxed once we entered and as I watched him start to flit about busily I had no doubt that this space was his. There was hardly any seating, just a table and two chairs and a loveseat against the wall. There were also no presumptuous forms of entertainment or generic decorations. Whatever was there, was there because he wanted it to be – like the worn copy of Lord of the Flies on the table and the dark blue velvet blanket hung carefully over the arm of the loveseat. The window on the opposite side of the room was lined with bars since it held a view to the outside, but the bars were covered with leafy vines so that it resembled the clearing of a forest more than a prison. And everything you could ever possibly need to make tea was sitting pretty between a mini fridge and an actual stove. I found myself at ease for the first time since arriving this morning, even in spite of Levi’s presence. 

He was pulling out an assortment of tea-related things while I looked on. “How do you like your tea?”

I had no idea. “Um... I don't care. Just make mine the same as yours.” 

A beat,

then – “What do you mean you don't care? Do you like it weak? Iced? Sans milk? Sweetened? Black? Green? What? I can't read your mind kid.”

“I don't know; I just don’t care. It it doesn't matter to me. It all kinda tastes the same anyway.”

Something clattered onto the counter and he turned to stare at me like I'd just admitted to having a threesome with Mr. and Mrs. Claus.

“Are you fucking with me?” 

His usually narrow eyes were wide with disbelief. Who knew tea could get such a rise out of him? It was unintentional. I’m not a tea connoisseur. I just buy flavors that sound good and Mikasa fixes it for us. 

I shrugged. “No?”

“Christ,” he breathed and pressed a hand over his eyes, sounding actually distressed, “You’ve clearly never had good tea before.”

I was determined not to be myself, so I didn’t laugh or argue or ask if I needed to call for help, and instead just said, “Maybe not.” 

“You can drink what I’m drinking. If you don’t like it, then maybe you should learn what to answer when someone asks how you like your tea.” I was sure that was reprimand. Levi was turning out to be a bit bizarre and I loved it. 

He prepared the tea in silence. I observed from a few feet away. While I was still much too concerned with his physical features, I was also already starting to learn and appreciate his particular quirks and mannerisms as well.

He wouldn't do more than one thing at a time, I noticed. He was very thorough, carefully completing one task before taking on another, but not tedious. Each move he made was exact and calculated, yet still quick with comfortable, skillful finesse – so very unlike me that I was fascinated. 

I spent the entire time forcing myself not to ask stupid questions like _’How long have you been drinking tea?’_ or _’Is tea your favorite drink?’_ despite how much I really wanted to know. Finally, he turned and held out a cup to me. I walked up and grasped it with both hands, worried I would break it or spill tea on him or catch something on fire or level the building. I wondered how this cup of tea was supposed to be any different than any other I'd had. It looked the same. Just some dark shit. Maybe a breakfast tea?

I flinched when he interrupted my thoughts. “Well?”

Oh. Tea… we drink it. Right. I brought the cup up to my lips and sniffed. I didn't know if this was supposed to work like a wine or whiskey tasting or if there was some tea drinking etiquette I needed to follow or if I should say something clever, but the aroma was really nice – like sitting in a forest eating cinnamon toast while it’s raining. I blew on the hot liquid, hoping that that was acceptable, and took a sip. 

I was impressed. I have a penchant for cinnamon anyway, but all of the other flavors had combined with it to play whack-a-mole on my taste buds, leaving behind this sensation that I was wide awake and sensitive and calm all at once. He made a believer out of me. 

“… Whoa.”

Levi beamed. He wasn't smiling, but I could tell he was pleased. I didn't want to ruin the moment by making a joke, like I would have if Jean had got that excited about tea. I wanted to see this man happy. There are certain people that have this way of radiating happiness. Like when they're happy, everyone is. Levi was one of them. I wouldn’t ruin that for anything.

I smiled at him. “Thank you.” 

And that was all that was said for a while. The silence wasn't uncomfortable. Levi was lost in thought, enjoying his tea, and I was genuinely enjoying just watching enjoy his tea. I couldn't have told you if he was calm or alert, but he wasn't tired. Not mentally, anyway.

"So uh... I'm sorry, but it's killing me... what's the latest on the homicide?"

His face darkened and he frowned. "We don't know a god damn thing," he said, sounding almost offended. 

"Oh." I was unsure if I should say anything else. I wanted to tell him he shouldn’t be upset, that it had only just happened and it was pretty much impossible to know much yet, but who EVER wanted to be told not to be upset? I looked down, drumming my fingers on my now almost empty cup and biting my lip.

"Don't worry. We'll take care of it." 

I looked back up. "Oh, no I'm not worried, I just... I mean we only caught a few details on the radio so I don't know what happened really." To be honest I wasn’t sure if I was worried or curious. I should be worried though, right? 

"Nobody does. Cause of death appears to be blunt force trauma, but we can’t say for sure until the autopsy report comes back. The victim was from out of town. We’re waiting on someone from her family to come and identify the body. When we get some recent photographs of her we’ll have them shared to see if we can pin down where she was leading up to the attack.”

The matter of fact way he spoke about what happened didn’t match his previous behavior. He might as well have been talking to a reporter, and I said as much. 

“I'm not the press you know." 

He looked up at me with a curious expression and I gave a small smile. I warm to people quickly, even if it's not the smartest thing to do. But I was surprised when his response gave evidence of having warmed up to me, too. 

"I know you're not,” he said, soft and assuaging. His sincerity was clear, but there were a million unspoken words in his eyes that I'd have to accept would stay that way for now. I nodded and then smiled wider, determined to lighten his mood. 

"Do you think Hange has eaten Armin yet?

He laughed. I was right in suspecting he had a soft spot for the nutcase. "If she ate him the fun would be over." 

“She’s really different from you and the sheriff.” 

“Hm. Yeah, she is. Never thought about it that way before. Do the sheriff and I seem similar then?” 

That express thought hadn’t yet crossed my mind, but the question was easy to answer. “Yeah, definitely. Like you’re related or something, you know? Like not how friends are similar, but how a father and a son might be. Or brothers. Does that make sense?” 

He nodded thoughtfully – actually considering what I said despite the inelegance of my delivery, which I appreciated. “It makes perfect sense. Erwin is in almost every way like a brother to me. I wouldn’t say a father just because some of the shit I say to him I’d never say to a father – a good father, anyway. It’s interesting you picked that up already.”

“It’s not hard to notice.” 

“It is, though,” he confides, “most people don’t understand our relationship. You figured it out immediately.”

I’d somehow impressed Levi without even meaning to and I had to fucking _beg_ my ego to be cool. I went to take a sip from my cup and remembered it was empty. God damn it.

Levi noticed, of course. “Are you still nervous?” 

I laughed behind my cup. IF ONLY HE KNEW AHAHAH- “Yeah,” I admitted softly. I wasn’t even going to attempt to lie, but he didn’t have to know _why_ I was nervous. He didn’t have to know how many times I’d glanced at his lips and imagined kissing them over the table. 

“Why? Because of what happened this morning?”

Fuck. I kept the empty cup in front of my face like it was a sad little shield and my voice came out about 5 octaves too high. “No I’m just… worried I’m going to fuck up.” Worried I’ll slip up and reveal my little crush. Worried I’ll jeopardize my job. Worried I’ll let everyone down. Guess that answer was honest anyway. Who _was_ this guy?

“Hm.”

That was starting to bug me. I hated when people had shit to say and didn’t just say it. I was often criticized for wearing my emotions on my sleeves and speaking without thinking, but thinking before speaking is just a euphemism for lying or being dishonest. It’s all I’d been doing all day. I think I would know. Because if I’d just spoken my mind Levi would have probably fired me by now. 

Well fuck, I guess I get it. But still. He could be a bit more subtle. I knew that he knew that I knew he was leaving something unsaid. And yet he still wouldn’t just come out with it. 

“Everyone fucks up,” he said finally, shrugging, “It’s ok to worry about that, but if you’re going to put out the energy to think of all the ways things can go wrong, then you better spend just as much fucking time thinking of all the ways things can go right.” I didn't speak as I let the words sink in. He reached for my cup and took it out of my hands. “Just don’t half-ass anything around me. That’s when I’ll consider you a waste of my time.” He pushed his chair back and stood up. “Let’s clean this mess and I’ll show you where your office is.”

I thought it was a little funny he called our two cups a mess, but I got up and did as he said, mood a little introspective and quiet. Levi was a bit exhausting to be around. He seemed to know that though, and always gave me an out at exactly the right time. It was probably routine for him. It made me wonder if everyone thought he was exhausting… and whether or not that bothered him. And already I’d forgotten how badly I wanted to get out from under his scrutinizing stare. He fascinated me as much as he intimidated me. I wanted to spend all day with him, get to know him, be the center of his attention, but I also knew how relieved I’d be once I got a moment away from him. 

I remembered my friends, all scattered throughout the station with their respective superiors and thought lunch couldn’t come soon enough. For that reason and also because the old banana from this morning was long gone. 

“So when do we eat?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I mention I was sorry?

**Author's Note:**

> AHH!! Read every one of these NAOW - if you haven’t already! I'm basically spoon-feeding you Ereri! Leave the authors tons of kudos and praise because they definitely deserve it – even though the asshole behind Junkyard Dogs completely fucking destroyed my heart xD
> 
> [1994](http://archiveofourown.org/works/875756) \- You've probably all read this one. I don't think any further explanation is required. In the event you haven't read it - no further explanation is required. Just click, young grasshopper.
> 
> [The Intern](http://archiveofourown.org/works/979988/chapters/1929352) – While admittedly heavy on teen angst, this fic NAILS SexyasF!Levi.
> 
> [Sugar on Top](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1360864), [Danger Line](http://archiveofourown.org/works/982178/chapters/1934369), & [Natural Born Killer](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2423225) – All by the same super awesome, talented, and prolific author. Smut and fluff for dayzzz. Her Levis fucking rock. She rocks. All three of these are a blast to read.
> 
> [Junkyard Dogs](http://archiveofourown.org/works/932478) – Probably home to the most endearing Eren ever. And whew the smut. Lawd lawd lawd. One of my favorites, even if it fucked me up for weeks afterward lol.
> 
> [Büsker Dü's and Don'ts](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1946151) – Seriously, such a fun fic. Eren is an absolutely sexy/horny/innocent/loveable/ mess. AND he sings! I love it so much!
> 
> [Leave Your Lover](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2062431)– Basically like the slowest build on the planet and it’s so worth it. The smut though!! Ah! This fic has a singing Eren and he’s heavenly <3
> 
> [An Unlikely Alliance](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2175729)– Singing Eren!! XDD I particularly like this fic because both Levi and Eren retain their canon strength and there isn’t a lot of angst.
> 
>  
> 
> These are my personal favorites and each inspired me in some way to write The Element of Surprise. Writing this stuff is taxing and time-consuming and it’s cool as shit that so many talented individuals have produced such compelling works of fiction just for the enjoyment of diehard fans/shippers like you and me (and themselves!). SO MUCH LOVE and sloppy kisses to these guys <3
> 
> [In the event you love all or most of these fics and have others you want to suggest - DOOO ITTTT]


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